“Have you come back so soon?  Do go where you are wanted if there is any such place.  Good-bye.  I’ll see you again,” and shut the door with a slam.

Or to the traveling agent who brought his wares to show, if asked to dismiss him, she would say,

“We want nothing; you know very well.  Don’t come here again.  Good-bye.  I’ll see you again,” and shut the door in his face.  This was a peculiarity of Miss Hanenwinkel.

Julius was quietly seated in a corner of the sitting-room, while Hunne stood before him watching with grave attention his nut-cracker’s desperate grimaces as he gave him nut after nut to crack in his powerful jaws.  Hunne carefully divided each kernel, giving one half to Jule, while he popped the other into his own little mouth.

Rolf approached them, repeating his question, “Will you guess, Jule?  You are not busy.”

    “My first in France, applaudingly
        The people to the actors cry: 
     With steady aim full in the eye,
        To hit my second you must try;
     My whole’s a prince of prowess high,
        Who fought the fight for Germany.”

“That is Bismarck, of course,” said the quick-witted lad.

“O, O, how quickly you guessed it,” said Rolf, quite taken aback.

“Now it is my turn; pay attention.  You must try hard for this now.  I have just made it up.”  And Jule declaimed with emphasis: 

    “My first transforms the night,
        And puts its peace to flight. 
     My second should you now become,
        You scarce will move, for fife or drum. 
     My whole hath power to soothe you all,
        Be your delight in church, or camp, or ball.”

“That is hard,” said Rolf, who was rather a slow thinker.  “Wait a moment, Jule, I shall get it soon.”  So Rolf sat down on an ottoman to think it over at his ease.

The big Jule and the little Hunne in the mean time pursued their occupation without interruption.  As an extra proof of his skill, Julius practised with the shells at hitting different objects in the room, to his little brother’s delight and admiration.

“I have it,” cried Rolf at last, much delighted.  “It is Cat-nip!”

“O, O, what a guess! what are you thinking of?  It is something very different, entirely different.  It is music.  Mew—­sick—­music, don’t you see?”

“Oh, yes,” said Rolf rather abashed.  “Now wait Jule, here’s another.  What is this?”

    “My first sings by the water side,
     My next is Heidelberg’s great pride,
     My whole was a blind poet, who
     In England lived and suffered too.”

“Shakspere,” said Julius, whose pride it was to answer instantly.

“Wrong,” cried Rolf, delighted.  “How could a shake sing by the water side, Jule?”

“Oh, I supposed you meant a shake in somebody’s voice, as he was riding or driving along,” said Jule, to justify himself.  “Now what are you laughing at?”