the mother's anxious hours.

"Your daughter--Fraeulein Elsa!" Gard exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes, my poor daughter. Oh, good Herr Kirtley, you have always been
so kind. I have treated you this winter like a son--just like my own
sons."

"You have been very good to me, Frau Bucher," interpolated Kirtley,
hastening to offer any consolation, although he could not imagine
what distress had brought her to him.

"Well, my daughter--you know it has always been the intention that
she marry Friedrich--ever since they were almost children. But, mein
Gott, the poor Friedrich does not arrive at anything. We love him.
All our friends love him--admire him. But he can get no fixed
position. We wait, he waits, Elsa waits. Always hopes and more hopes
and nothing comes. And he is so disappointed. No Kapellmeistership.
Only small engagements which do not pay much and soon end. He has
no money and what little we have to give with Elsa will not answer
until he is permanently established.

"You see Friedrich is a courageous fellow and he is apt to speak his
mind. You remember how he mimicked the military. My husband and I
think he makes enemies by his impulsive temper. You know what
musicians are. They talk right out. We think his enemies put
difficulties in his way. And so nothing is settled. We keep waiting
and here we are. Elsa wants to marry. She wants children!" exploded
the artless Frau.

The abruptness of this confession in the matter-of-fact German way
almost overcame Gard with embarrassment. He recovered himself at
length to ask:

"Does she love him?"

"Ach Himmel! does she love him? Haven't you seen her so dumb at
times? But nothing comes to pass--and when will there be anything?
She gets her grumpy spells over these postponements--always
postponements. You know young people are impatient. They don't
understand such things. She wants to marry. Every young girl wants
to marry and have children. I may die. My husband may die at any
time. And she won't be settled for life."

The mother went off in a vigorous scene of upheaval. The slender and
youthful Kirtley felt himself unequal to the task of trying to
comfort her bulky person with its commotions.

"But what do you want me to do? Frau Bucher?"

"We all love America, Herr Kirtley!" she burst out. "Elsa loves
America. Ever since that splendid Herr Deming came, we love America.
And we feel we can trust _you_. Young men ought to marry early. Elsa
wants a decent husba