d Annchen had followed a brother to Chicago and
opened a shop double the size of the old one, and they were hardly
settled when Lieschen sickened suddenly and after long illness died. For
many weeks there was no earning. Even the angry Grossvater saw that it
was impossible, and doled out reluctantly the money they had helped him
to save. Lieschen had always fretted him. Lotte was the best gift she
had ever made the Bauer name, and when the funeral was over, he went
home, secretly relieved that the long watch was over; went home to find
that the precious chest, hidden always under piles of bedding in the
closet where he locked his own possessions, had disappeared. There had
been a moving from the story above. Men had gone up and down for an
hour, and no one had noticed specially what was carried. There was no
clew, even after days of searching; and Grossvater Bauer, who had rushed
madly to the police station, haunted it now, with imploring questions,
till told they could do nothing and that he must keep away. He sank then
into the sort of apathy that had held him when the news came from Sedan.
He went to his work, but there was no heart in it, and sat by the fire
when night came, with only an impatient shake of the head when Lotte
tried to comfort him. Till then no one had realized his age, but now his
hair whitened and his broad shoulders bowed. He was an old man; and
Lotte said to herself that his earning days were nearly over, and worked
an hour or two later that the week's gain might be a little larger and
so comfort him.

She came home one afternoon with her bundle of work. Gretchen, who was
nearly thirteen, had helped her carry it, and had shrunk back frightened
as the foreman put a finger under her chin, and nodded smilingly at the
peach-like face and the great blue eyes. Lotte struck down his hand
passionately. She knew better than Gretchen what the smile meant. The
child should never know if she could help it, and she did not mind the
evil glance that followed her toward the door. There were people
standing at their doors as she went slowly up the stairs, her breath
coming quickly, as now it always did when she climbed them.

"Poor soul!" one of them said. "She little knows what she's coming to."

"Was ist los?" Lotte cried as the door opened, and then shrieked aloud,
for the Grossvater lay there on the bed, crushed and disfigured and
almost speechless, but lifting one hand feebly as she flew toward him.

"A