On each side were large flower-pots filled with earth, and from these countless threads were fastened to the ring.
Under the ring was a garden-table made of twisted boughs, and a few chairs of the same nature.
Anton stood still in amazement, and at last called out, "What the deuce have you such a network as this in your room for ?" Specht sprang up and said, "It is an arbor." "An arbor! I see nothing green about it." "That will come," said Specht, pointing out his great flower-pots.
On a closer inspection, Anton detected a few weak shoots of ivy, which looked dusty and faded, like the twilighted dream-visions which the waking man allows to cling round his spirit for a few moments before he sweeps them away forever.
"But, Specht, this ivy will never grow," said Anton.
"There are other things," importantly announced Specht, showing Anton a few wan-looking growths that just peered above the top of the pots, and resembled nothing so much as the unfortunate attempts to germinate which the potato will make in a cellar when spring-time comes.
"And what are these shoots ?" "Kidney-beans and pumpkins.

The whole will form an arbor.

In a few weeks the tendrils will run up the threads.

Only think, Wohlfart, how well it will look--the green tendrils, the flowers, and the great leaves! I shall cut off most of the pumpkins, but a few of them shall remain.

Just picture to yourself the fresh green and the yellow blossoms! What a place it will be to sit with friends over a glass of wine or to sing a quartette in!" "But, Specht," inquired Anton, laughing, "can you really suppose that the plants will grow in your attic ?" "Why not ?" cried Specht, much offended.