ulated, rival the livers of
Strasburg geese in delicacy? Were not its brains a source of mutual
congratulation to an entire family at supper? Did not its very snout,
boiled with peas, make an otherwise inferior soup delicious? The ribs of
this particular pig were reposing at that moment in a cool place,
carefully shielded from harm by his wife, reserved for the Easter Sunday
dinner of their new mistress, who, having begun at her first meal with
the lesser joys of cutlets, was to be fed with different parts in the
order of their excellence till the climax of rejoicing was reached on
Easter Day in the dish of _Schweinebraten_, and who was now declaring,
in a die-away, affected sort of voice, that she did not want to eat pig
at all. Where, then, was her vulnerable point? How would he ever be able
to touch her, to influence her, if she was indifferent to the chief
means of happiness known to the dwellers in those parts? That was the
real aim and end of his labours, of the labours, as far as he could see,
of everyone else--to make as much money as possible in order to live as
well as possible; and what did living well mean if it did not mean the
best food? And what was the best food if not pig? Not to be killed on
her account! On whose account, then, could they be killed? With an owner
always about the place, and refusing to have pigs killed, how would he
and his wife be able to indulge, with satisfactory frequency, in their
favourite food, or offer it to their expectant friends on Sundays? He
mourned old Joachim, who so seldom came down, and when he did ate his
share of pork like a man, more sincerely at that moment than he would
have thought possible. "_Mein seliger Herr_," he burst out brokenly,
completely upset by the difference between uncle and niece, "_mein
seliger Herr_----" And then, unable to go on, fell to blowing his nose
with violence, for there were real tears in his eyes.

Anna looked up, surprised. She thought he had been speaking of pigs, and
here he was on a sudden bewailing his late master. When she saw the
tears she was deeply touched. "Poor man," she said to herself, "how
unjust I have been. Of course he loved dear Uncle Joachim; and my coming
here, an utter stranger, taking possession of everything, must be very
dreadful for him." She got up, at once anxious, as she always was, to
comfort and soothe anyone who was sad, and put her hand gently on his
arm. "I loved him too," she said softly, "and you who k