s coral insects build their islands. And Hilda was getting
along--why, she would be twenty in four months. "I don't know. I
don't know." Brauner rubbed his head in embarrassment and perplexity.
"It's bad--very bad. And everything was running so smoothly."

Hilda came in. Both men looked at her guiltily. "What is it?" she
asked. And if they had not been mere men they would have noticed a
change in her face, a great change, very wonderful and beautiful to see.

"I came to release you," said Otto.

"I've got nothing left--and a lot of debts. I--"

"Yes--I know," interrupted Hilda. She went up to him and put her arm
round his neck. "We'll have to begin at the bottom," she said with a
gentle, cheerful smile.

Brauner pretended that he heard some one calling him from the shop.
"Yes right away!" he shouted. And when he was alone in the shop he
wiped his eyes, not before a large tear had blistered the top sheet of
a pile of wrapping paper.

"I know you don't care for me as--as"--Otto was standing uneasily, his
eyes down and his face red. "It was hard enough for you before.
Now--I couldn't let you do it--dear."

"You can't get rid of me so easily," she said. "I know I'm getting
along and I won't be an old maid."

He paid no attention to her raillery. "I haven't got anything to ask
you to share," he went on. "I've been working ever since I was
eleven--and that's fourteen years--to get what I had. And it's all
gone. It'll take several years to pay off my debts, and mother must be
supported. No--I've got to give it up."

"Won't you marry me, Otto?" She put her arms round his neck.

His lips trembled and his voice broke. "I can't--let you do it, Hilda."

"Very well." She pretended to sigh.

"But you must come back this evening. I want to ask you again."

"Yes, I'll come. But you can't change me."

He went, and she sat at the table, with her elbows on it and her face
between her hands, until her father came in. Then she said: "We're
going to be married next week. And I want two thousand dollars. We'll
give you our note."

Brauner rubbed his face violently.

"We're going to start a delicatessen," she continued, "in the empty
store where Bischoff was. It'll take two thousand dollars to start
right."

"That's a good deal of money," objected her father.

"You only get three and a half per cent. in the savings bank," replied
Hilda. "We'll give you six. You know it'll be safe--Otto and I
t