ing the
superstition that there was bad luck in having the first greeting come
from an old woman, he called up a pretty boy, and made him be the first
to shake hands with Lenz.

From this moment all was merry-making. It was hard to believe that any
eye could have been dimmed by tears.

While Lenz in the little parlor shook hands with his new sisters, and
kissed and embraced his brothers-in-law, and the doctor came with his
daughters,--it was kind of them to come to the wedding,--and one person
after another passed in and out and offered congratulations, Annele sat
still in her chair, holding a fine white handkerchief pressed to her
eyes. "I could not help crying as I did," said Lenz; "you know how
happy I am. From this hour we will hold the one honor between us firm
and true, and, please God, it shall grow with us. I never shall forget
what a family you have brought me into. With God's blessing these shall
be the last tears we are to shed together. But take your gloves off; I
haven't any on."

Annele refused with a shake of her head, but gave no other answer.

Come to table! to table! to table! was called three times, and a
threefold appetite seemed to respond to the summons. Only Franzl kept
complaining that she could not eat, she could not swallow a morsel; it
was a shame when there were so many good things, but she could not.

Dancing began in the upper hall while the lunch was going on below, and
the bridal pair went to and fro between the tables and the dancers.

"It is abominable of the engineer to come to the wedding," said Annele,
as they were going up stairs; "he was not invited. Don't speak a word
to him."

"Never mind him," said Lenz, soothingly. "Let all be happy to-day. I am
only sorry Faller is not here. I sent for him, but he has not come."

Pilgrim danced the first dance with Annele. "You are a capital dancer,"
she said.

"But not so good a painter, you think?"

"I did not say so."

"Then I won't paint your portrait, though I have been thinking of it
to-day. After all, you have not a good face to paint. You are very
pretty when you talk, but when you are still there is a look I cannot
describe."

"Pity you can't use your brush as well as your tongue."

"Very good; you sha'n't have your picture painted by me. Paint--who is
it?--on the wall, and he is sure--?"

"I would not have you paint me for all the world," retorted Annele. She
had soon recovered her good spirits.

The bride and bri