nd fights were not
uncommon in the tenement. He stepped out into the hall. "Come, sir,"
he called into the darkness.

A bounding step upon the stair responded and an instant later John
entered, anxious faced and fixing his entreating eyes immovably upon
his mother. He was a bit dishevelled.

"Excuse me," he said nervously. "I had to settle with Moresco. He was
the officer you had. I'll have to pay a little fine, I guess; but it
was worth it. What have you--decided, mother?"

"Your mother," Kreutzer said, before she had a chance to speak, "has
given her consent."

John went to her with beaming face and caught her hands. "You're a
brick, mother." Gaily he caught her in his arms.

His transport was rudely interrupted, though, by Kreutzer's voice,
this time so harsh, so stern, so utterly unlike the old flute-player's
usual genial tone that he was startled.

"But I, sir," he said raspingly, "I--I have, myself, something to
say."

Son and mother looked at the new Kreutzer (for, suddenly, an utter
change had come upon the man: he was majestic) with amazement, almost
with alarm. He paid no heed to them but went firmly to the kitchen
door.

"Anna, Anna," he called sternly. "Come, I want you. I have something
which I wish to say."

Hurriedly the girl came in, looking at him wonderingly. Never in her
life had she heard such a tone from her father's lips before.

"Anna, you love this man--Herr Vanderlyn?"

"Yes, father; I--I love him. Yes."

"You love him very, very much?" His voice, now, softened somewhat.

"More than I could ever tell you, father."

She turned her eyes from the old flute-player's to those of the young
man, and smiled at him.

"Anna!" he exclaimed, and started towards her from his mother's side.

"Stop!" said Kreutzer and held up his hand. Then, turning again to
Anna: "You would not even give him up for me?"

"You would not ask that of me, father," she said confidently, "for it
is my happiness."

The old German nodded slowly, somewhat sadly. "No," he admitted, "no;
I would not ask it.... You shall have--your happiness." He
straightened, then, and looked as her so differently that it startled
her a little. "But I, Anna," he said sorrowfully, "I go from your
life--forever."

She stood, amazed. What could this mean? At first she thought he might
be making game of her, but the look of bitter sorrow on his face
convinced her that this could not be. "You, father!" she exclaimed.
"No; I will no