like to shake hands with you for that--you've hit it
exactly." And she repeated after him, "Ah ... yes!" But it went to Frau
Sperber's heart, for Frau Kummerfelden had not been a famous tragic
actress for nothing.

"Don't make a person's heart heavy, you foolish Suse!" she said to her
good friend. "You must always go putting emotion into things."

"But," said Herr Sperber, "it can't go on like this--it would be a nice
state of things. Tubby must marry."

"Marry!" said Frau Kummerfelden. "A beauty like her! That would be a
shame!"

"Well, what do you intend to do with her?" asked Herr Sperber. "After
all, that's what women are meant for."

"Yes, more's the pity."

"And old Rauchfuss's daughter especially ought to marry early--or we
shall see things. She's a devil of a girl ... The pastor says he's got
somebody for her."

"Well, why not? The pastor, he'll have somebody decent," said Frau
Kummerfelden.

"And what about our nephew?" asked Frau Sperber. "Both the girl and the
estate would be just the thing for him; and then we should have him
near us."

"Oh, of course," said Frau Kummerfelden; "everything would be
beautifully arranged then."

In the meantime the young people were still dancing under the trees,
paying no attention to the old folks who have forgotten what real joy
is, and with their hateful sensible theories based on experience can't
help spoiling pure young human happiness, however well they mean.
Without knowing that old eyes full of sorrowful memories and wisdom had
rested on them, the happy young things danced on in silent bliss.

When at last they had had enough, they wandered into the darkening
wood and sang and looked at the glow-worms, and talked as only very
young men and maidens talk who are still afraid to speak of love.

It began to grow late. "I'm thirsty," said Roese, "and now we can't
expect to get any supper at the Sperbers'--we'll be lucky if we get in
without a scolding."

Beate had an idea: "Let's go into the cow-stable and drink fresh milk."
Every one was agreeable. "But we shall have to be very quiet, because
the men sleep quite near."

So they stole cautiously into the stable, Beate carrying the lantern.
The courtyard lay dark and still; a strong perfume rose from the high
manure-piles. The lovely girl opened the old, worn door, and they
entered. A warm breath blew into their faces. From a niche in the wall
an oil lamp threw down a faint glimmer of yellow on the white b