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He did not wait for an answer, having caught sight, at that moment, of Fido, who, shy as all dogs are in a strange place and among strange people, had crept away under a table, and sat there very still with his eyes firmly fixed on Wilhelm. "A dog! A spitz!" Willy shrieked with joy. "Is he for me, Onkelchen?" He rushed at Fido, took hold of him by the paw, and dragged him out.
Das kommt wohl daher Onkelchen, daß dein Revier nicht die ganze Erde umfasst ... 's ist da noch ein Endchen draußen geblieben.... One of the curious results of what is called wild life, is a blessed release from many of the timidities that assail the easy liver in the centres of civilisation. Potts was the only one in the white camp who had doubts about the wisdom of having to do with the natives.
Malvine had tears in her eyes as she said, "No one will care for you so much as we do." Even little Willy was downcast, and gazed with a reproachful look at the friend who could find it in his heart to desert him. As the train moved off he called out to Wilhelm, in his ringing, childish voice, "Come back soon, Onkelchen, and bring me something nice." Wilhelm's immediate destination was Ostend.
Paul took him severely to task; Malvine represented to him, with an eloquence unusual to her, the horrors of a lonely New-Year's Eve; Frau Brohl pointed out the advantages of celebrating the festive occasion in a company composed entirely of rich people; and even Willy entreated, "Do come, Onkelchen, you can take care of me on the road."
"I say, Onkelchen, you have just come in time for my birthday, haven't you?" Wilhelm had not thought of it. "When is your birthday, my boy?" he asked, rather crestfallen. "Why, don't you know? It is the day after to-morrow. And what have you brought me?"
Meanwhile the news of Wilhelm's arrival had penetrated as far as Willy, who now came rushing in. "Onkelchen, Onkelchen! have you come back?" he shouted, long before he reached Wilhelm, and stretched out his little arms to him. He had not grown much, but was plump and rosy as a ripe apple. Wilhelm kissed him, and stroked the soft, fair curls that felt so much like Pilar's silky hair.
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