The cause of her unmistakable ill-humor, of course, was known only to me, and was a source of wonder to Max.

At the end of five minutes, during which there had been little conversation, Max, who was amused at Yolanda's pouting, turned to her, and said:-- "The Fates owe me a few smiles as compensation for their frowns during the last three weeks.

Won't you help them to pay me, Fraeulein ?" Her face had been averted, but when Max spoke she turned slowly and gave him the smile he desired as if to say, "I am not pouting at you." Her act was so childlike and her face so childishly beautiful that we all smiled with amusement and pleasure.

Yolanda saw the smiles and turned on us, pouting though almost ready to laugh.

She rose from her chair, stamped her foot, stood irresolutely for a moment, and then breaking into a laugh, drew her chair to our little circle--next to Max--and sat down.
"Tante, is supper never to be served ?" she asked.