The judge looked out from under his blue spectacles with earnest attention at the two men. Just then Linden waved his hand shortly and they strode along the way which led to the court and the outer gate, Wolff still speaking eagerly.

Gertrude bent far over the iron railing. It seemed to her that Frank was vexed. Now they stood still. Frank opened the gate and pointed outward with an unmistakable and very energetic gesture.

Mr. Wolff hesitated, he began to speak again--again the mute gesture still more energetic, and the little man disappeared like a flash. The gate fell clanging in the lock and Frank came back, but slowly as if he must recover himself first and deeply flushed as if from intense anger.

Gertrude went to meet him, but said nothing. She would not ask him for explanations before their guests. She very stealthily pressed his hand and spoke cheerfully of her pleasure in her guests.

"Charming!" he said, absently, "but Gertrude, pray entertain Uncle Henry--Richard--come with me a moment--I must--I will show you your room." And the two friends left the room together.

"Do you know that you are going to have some more visitors this afternoon?" asked the old gentleman, settling himself comfortably in a chair. "Your mother and the Fredericks,--they came back yesterday morning. Jenny looks blooming as a rose, and, thank Heaven! Arthur has got his milk-face burned a little with the sun."

"Yes," replied Gertrude, "he was with them at the Italian lakes for a month." And then as if she had only just taken in his whole meaning,--"How glad I am that mamma is coming out here at once! Ah, uncle, if she would only get reconciled to Frank!"

"Eh, what? Gertrude, don't distress yourself, it will all come right.

Besides he is not a man to put up with much nonsense!"

"What could this Wolff have wanted with him?"

"Hm! what are they about in Heaven's name?" asked her uncle, impatiently.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, absently.

"Hungry? How can you use such common expressions? A dish of pork and beans would suffice for hunger. I have an appet.i.te, my child. O, ta, ta, the asparagus will be spoiled if those two stay so long in their room."

It was a very cosy group that Mrs. Baumhagen's eyes rested on as she, with Jenny and Arthur, mounted the veranda steps.

They were sitting over their dessert, and Uncle Henry, with his napkin in his b.u.t.tonhole, his champagne-gla.s.s in his hand, shouted out a stentorious "welcome!" while the young host and hostess hurried down the steps, Gertrude with crimson cheeks. She was so proud, so happy.

Mrs. Baumhagen looked at her daughter in amazement. The pale, quiet girl had become as blooming as a rose. "It is the honeymoon still," she said to herself, and her eyes never ceased to follow her youngest child during the whole time of her stay.

The coffee-table was set out under the chestnuts. It was a beautiful spot. The eye glanced over the green lawn, past the magnificent trees to the quaint old dwelling-house with its high gables and its ivy-grown walls. The doors of the garden-hall stood open, and from the flagstaff fluttered gayly a black-and-white flag.

"An idyll like a picture by Voss," laughed the little judge.

The young host gallantly escorted his mother-in-law through the garden.

Every cloud had vanished from his brow, he was cheerful and agreeable.

"But very sure of himself," Jenny remarked, later, to her mother. "He feels himself quite the host and master of the house."

The uncomfortable feeling which he had always had in his mother-in-law's presence, had disappeared. To her amazement he permitted himself once or twice quite calmly to contradict her. Arthur had never dared to do that. And Gertrude, how ridiculous! while she presided over the coffee in her calm way, her eyes were continually turning to him as soon as he spoke. "As you like, Frank,"--"What do you think, Frank?" etc. And when her mother hoped Gertrude would not fail to call on her Aunt Pauline on her birthday, the next day, she asked appealingly, "Can I, Frank? Can I have the carriage?"

"Certainly, Gertrude," was the reply.

Then Mrs. Baumhagen put down her dainty coffee cup and leaned back in her garden chair. The child was not in her right mind! that was too much. But Arthur Fredericks applauded loudly.

"Gertrude," he called out across the table, "talk to this--" he seized the hand of his wife who angrily tried to draw it away. "What does Katherine say as an amiable wife to her sister? Words that sound as sweet to us as a message from a better world."

"To be sure!" laughed Gertrude, not in the least offended by the ironical tone.

"Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee And for thy maintenance; commits his body To painful labor, both by sea and land; To watch the night in storms, the day in cold While thou liest warm at home secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks and true obedience,-- Too little payment for so great a debt."

"You see, Arthur, I have my Shakespeare at my tongue's end."

Mrs. Baumhagen suddenly broke up the coffee party. She seemed heated, for she was fanning herself with her handkerchief.

"Gertrude, you must show us the house," she exclaimed. "Come, Jenny, we will leave the gentlemen to their cigars."

"Gladly, mamma," said the young girl, easily.

She led her mother and sister through the kitchen and cellar, through the chambers, and through the whole house. In the dining-room a pretty young woman in a spotless white ap.r.o.n was engaged in clearing off the table. Gertrude gave her some orders in a low tone as she pa.s.sed.

"That is Johanna, whose husband was killed," said Jenny.

"Yes," replied her sister, "I have engaged her as housekeeper. She is very capable, and I like to have a familiar face about me."

"With the child?" asked the mother, scornfully.

"Of course," replied the young wife. "She lives in the other wing. It is a pleasure to see how the little fellow improves in the country air."

"Who lives in this wing?" inquired Jenny.

"Aunt Rosa."

"Good gracious! A sort of mother-in-law?" cried her sister in consternation.

Gertrude shook her head. "No, she is quite inoffensive, she belongs to the inventory--so to speak. But I would like Frank to have his mother here, the old lady is so alone and she is not very well."

Jenny laughed aloud, but Mrs. Baumhagen rustled so angrily into the next room that all the ribbons on her rather youthful toilette fluttered and waved in the air.

"Gertrude!" cried Jenny, "you will not be so senseless!"

The young wife made no reply. She opened a wardrobe door in the corridor and said,

"This is the linen, Jenny; we need so much in the country. That is the chest for the finest linen and for the china, and this is my room. This way, mamma."

"It might have been a little less simple," remarked her mother, who had recovered herself, though the flush of excitement still rested on her full cheeks.

"I did not wish to be so very unlike Frank, who kept his old furniture; besides we are only in moderate circ.u.mstances, you know, mamma, and we are only just beginning."

Her mother cleared her throat and sat down in one of the small arm-chairs. Jenny wandered about the room, looking at the pictures and ornaments, slightly humming to herself as she did so. Gertrude stood thoughtfully beside her mother and felt her heart grow cold as ice. It was the old feeling of estrangement which always thrust itself between her and her mother and sister--they had nothing in common. She grieved over it as she had always done, but she no longer felt the bitter pain of former days. Slowly her hand sought the pocket of her dress, and touched lightly a rustling paper--"Thou art unspeakably beloved." Ah, that was compensation enough for anything, and she lifted her head with a happy smile.

"But you have not told me anything about your delightful journey yet, and your letters were so very short."

"O, yes," said Jenny, yawning as she took up a terra cotta figure and gazed at it on all sides, "it was perfectly delightful in Nice. Now that I am back again, I begin to feel what a provincial little circle it is that we vegetate in here."

"We will go again, next year, Providence permitting," added Mrs.

Baumhagen. "Only I must beg to be excused from Arthur's company. He was really just as childish as your father used to be in his time. Jenny must not do this and Jenny should not do that, mustn't go here and mustn't stand there, in short he was a perfect torment, as if we women did not know ourselves what it is proper to do."

Jenny seated herself too.