she has never so much as looked at him since the day he preached in Rahnstaedt.”  “Ah, Mrs. Nuessler,” said Braesig, “love shows itself in most unexpected ways.  Sometimes the giving of a bunch of flowers is a sign of it, or even a mere ‘good-morning’ accompanied by a shake of the hand.  Sometimes it is shown by two people stooping at the same moment to pick up a ball of cotton that one of them has dropped, when all that the looker-on sees is that they knocked their heads together in trying which could pick it up first.  But gradually the signs become more apparent.  The girl blushes now and then, and the man watches whatever she does; or the girl takes the man into the larder, and gives him sausages, or cold tongue, or pig’s cheek, and the man begins to wear a blue or a red necktie; but the surest sign of all is when they go out on a summer-evening for a walk in the moonlight, and you hear them sigh without any cause.  Now, has anything of that kind been going on with the little round-heads?” “No, I can’t say that I’ve noticed them doing that, Braesig.  They used to go to the cold meat-larder sometimes it’s true, but I soon put an end to that; I wasn’t going to stand that sort of thing; and as for blushing, I didn’t notice them doing that either, though of course I’ve seen that their eyes are often red with crying.”  “Well,” said Braesig, “there must have been a reason for that—­I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Nuessler, you just leave the whole management of the affair in my hands, for I know how to arrange such matters.  I soon put an end to that sort of nonsense in Fred Triddelfitz.  I’m an old hunter, and I’ll ferret the matter out for you, but you must tell me where they generally meet.”  “Here, Braesig, here in this arbor.  My girls sit here in the afternoon with their work, and then the other two join them.  I never thought any harm of it.”  “All right!” said Braesig, going out of the arbor, and looking about him.  He examined a large cherry-tree carefully which was growing close by, and seeing that it was thickly covered with leaves he looked quite satisfied.  “That’ll do,” he said, “what can be done, shall be done.”  “Goodness, gracious me!” said Mrs. Nuessler, “I wonder what will happen this afternoon!  It’s very disagreeable.  Kurz is coming at coffee-time, and he is desperately angry with his son for playing such a trick on his cousin.  You’ll see that there will be a terrible scene.”  “That’s always the way with these little people,” said Braesig, “when the head and the lower part of the constitution are too near each other, the nature is always fiery.”  “Ah!” sighed Mrs. Nuessler as she entered the parlor, “it’ll be a miserable afternoon.”

She little knew that misery had long ago taken up its abode in her house.