wed fruit, and
honey and eggs, and cold fish and kidneys, and hot fish and liver? All
the ladies eat, too, especially the ladies."

"Certainly. I myself have noticed it, when I was living in a hotel in
Leicester Square," cried the Herr Rat. "It was a good hotel, but they
could not make tea--now--"

"Ah, that's one thing I CAN do," said I, laughing brightly. "I can make
very good tea. The great secret is to warm the teapot."

"Warm the teapot," interrupted the Herr Rat, pushing away his soup
plate. "What do you warm the teapot for? Ha! ha! that's very good! One
does not eat the teapot, I suppose?"

He fixed his cold blue eyes upon me with an expression which suggested a
thousand premeditated invasions.

"So that is the great secret of your English tea? All you do is to warm
the teapot."

I wanted to say that was only the preliminary canter, but could not
translate it, and so was silent.

The servant brought in veal, with sauerkraut and potatoes.

"I eat sauerkraut with great pleasure," said the Traveller from North
Germany, "but now I have eaten so much of it that I cannot retain it. I
am immediately forced to--"

"A beautiful day," I cried, turning to Fraulein Stiegelauer. "Did you
get up early?"

"At five o'clock I walked for ten minutes in the wet grass. Again in
bed. At half-past five I fell asleep, and woke at seven, when I made an
'overbody' washing! Again in bed. At eight o'clock I had a cold-water
poultice, and at half past eight I drank a cup of mint tea. At nine I
drank some malt coffee, and began my 'cure.' Pass me the sauerkraut,
please. You do not eat it?"

"No, thank you. I still find it a little strong."

"Is it true," asked the Widow, picking her teeth with a hairpin as she
spoke, "that you are a vegetarian?"

"Why, yes; I have not eaten meat for three years."

"Im--possible! Have you any family?"

"No."

"There now, you see, that's what you're coming to! Who ever heard of
having children upon vegetables? It is not possible. But you never have
large families in England now; I suppose you are too busy with your
suffragetting. Now I have had nine children, and they are all alive,
thank God. Fine, healthy babies--though after the first one was born I
had to--"

"How WONDERFUL!" I cried.

"Wonderful," said the Widow contemptuously, replacing the hairpin in the
knob which was balanced on the top of her head. "Not at all! A friend
of mine had four at the same time. Her husband was so pl