hild and the thing for which he was so earnestly
searching, why, he would not envy the emperor on his throne. When the
widow Vorkel noticed the tears that were streaming down the old man's
sunken cheeks, her eyes too began to overflow, and after that she often
crept to the chest where the portrait was kept to gaze on the little one
and to press her lips on the same spot whence the grandfather's had
already worn away some of the red crayon.

Herr Ueberhell's joy had been so great that now the longing for his son
took deeper hold of him, and he lost strength day by day, yet Frau Vorkel
could not persuade him to see a physician. He often, however, inhaled
deep draughts of a concoction that he had made in the laboratory with his
son's letter before him, and as he seemed to derive no benefit from it he
would distil it again and mix with it new drugs.

One evening-after having spent the whole day in the laboratory--he
retired unusually early, and when Frau Vorkel went into his room to carry
him his "nightcap" he forgot his usual amiable and suave manner and
growled out at her angrily: "After all these years, can't you prepare my
bed for the night without making me burn myself? Must you be inattentive
as well as stupid?"

Never had she heard such a speech as this from her kindly master, and
when from fright she tipped the tray which she was carrying and spilled
some of the mulled wine over her gown, he cried sharply: "Where are your
wits! First you forget to take the red hot warming-pan out of the bed and
now you old goose you spill my good drink onto the floor."

He stopped, for Frau Vorkel had set down the tray on the table in order
to wipe her eyes with her apron; then he thrust his feet out of the
bed-which was entirely contrary to his usual decorous behavior--and
demanded with flashing eyes: "Did you hear what I just said?"

The widow, greatly shocked, retreated and answered sobbing: "How could I
help hearing, and how can you bring yourself to insult an unprotected
widow who has served you long and faithfully. . . ."

"I have done it, I have done it," the old man cried, his eyes glistening
with joy and pride as if he had just accomplished an heroic undertaking.
"I am sorry I called you a goose, and as for your lack of brains, well
you might have a few more, but, and this I can assure you, you are honest
and true and understand your business, and if you will only be as good to
me as I have always been to you. . . ."