. Stasi essayed another song, but Walpurga did not care for it;
indeed, none of them were to her liking that day.

"Let's be quiet," said she at last. "Don't worry me through all those
songs; I don't feel like doing anything to-day."

The bells were tolling for the third time. The two friends were sitting
together in silence.

At last Stasi said: "How kind it is of the innkeeper to let them ride
home from church in his wagon."

"Listen! I hear wheels. They can't be coming already."

"No, that's the rattle of the doctor's carriage. There he is, up there
by the willows; and there's another gentleman with him."

"Don't talk to me now, Stasi," said the young mother; "let the whole
world drive by; it's all the same to me."

She sat there silently, resting her head against the back of the chair
and looking out into the golden sunlight that seemed to infuse all
nature with new life. The grass was of a lovelier green than ever
before; the lake glittered with the soft sheen of the ever-changing
light; the waves were splashing against the shore; a gentle breeze
wafted the odors of the violets and rosemary from the window-shelf into
the room.

A carriage stopped before the cottage. First, the loud cracking of a
whip was heard; then, approaching footsteps, and at last, the jolly
doctor calling out: "Hansei! Is there no one at home?"

"No," answered Stasi, "there's nobody but Walpurga and me," whereupon
there was great laughter out of doors.

Doctor Kumpan entered the room, followed by the stranger, who started
as if amazed. Moved with admiration by the sight he beheld, he bowed
involuntarily; but, checking himself, he was more erect than before.

"Where's Hansei, the Sunday child's father?" inquired Doctor Kumpan.

The wife arose and said that he had gone to church with the child and
its sponsors, but that he would soon return.

"Keep your seat!" said the doctor. "I mean to be an unbidden guest at
your christening dinner, and my friend here, who is also a man-killer
like myself, will join us."

"What do you want of my husband? Mayn't I know?"

"The husband cuts the loaf and then helps his wife to some of it. You
know that's the custom of the country, Walpurga. We want to talk to
your husband about a matter of great importance. Don't get frightened,
it isn't a law affair. All I have to say to you is, you've a Sunday
child. Perhaps you're one yourself?"

"I am, indeed."

"So much the better; you're doubly fortuna