s our _duty_--the man was
killed in our factory."

"O fiddle-dedee, pet," interposed Mrs. Jenny, "I hate that everlasting
god mothering! I have already three round dozens of godchildren as
surely as I stand here---_poor_ people are not required for that
purpose, I assure you. Come, I have finished here now, we will go to
the nursery for awhile, or"--casting a glance at the old-fashioned
clock--"still better, mamma has had some patterns for evening-dresses
sent her--wait a minute and I will come up with you; the company won't
come yet for an hour and a half."

She turned round gracefully once more as if to survey her work. The
buffet shone with silver dishes, a bright fire burned in the open
fireplace, the heavy chandelier as well as the sconces before the tall
glass were filled with dark red twisted candles, and as Caroline drew
back the heavy embroidered _portiere_, a room almost too luxuriously
furnished became visible--a room all crimson; even through the stained
glass of the bow-window the evening light sent red reflections in the
labyrinth of chairs and sofas, lounges and tables, while white marble
statues stood out against the dark green of costly greenhouse plants.

"It looks pleasant, doesn't it, Gertrude?" said the young wife. "I have
not opened the great drawing-room because there will be only a few
ladies. The wife of the Home Minister has accepted. Are you coming in
for an hour?"

"No, thanks," replied the young girl, mounting the stairs with her
sister to her mother's apartment. "Send me the baby for awhile, I like
so much to have him."

"Oh, yes, the young gentleman shall make his appearance," nodded Mrs.
Jenny, "provided he doesn't sleep like a little dormouse."

"Do you go in to mamma," said Gertrude. "I will change my dress and
then come."

The rooms were the same as in the lower story, also richly furnished,
though not in the new "aesthetic" style, yet they were not less elegant
and comfortable. The sisters separated in the ante-room, and Gertrude
Baumhagen went to her own room. She occupied the room with the
bow-window, but here the daylight was not broken by costly stained
glass: it came in, unhindered, in floods through the clear panes,
before which outside, numberless flowers waved in the soft breeze.
Directly opposite were the gables of the Rathhaus; like airy lace-work,
the rich ornamentation of the towers was marked out against the glowing
evening sky.

This bow-window was a delightfu