A few minutes later Roswitha came out into the yard with the bottle of varnish in her hand and stood by the harness which Kruse had just hung over the garden fence.  “By George!” he said, as he took the bottle from her hand, “it will not do much good; it keeps drizzling all the time and the shine will come off.  But I am one of those who think everything must be kept in order.”

“Indeed it must.  Besides, Kruse, that is good varnish, as I can see at a glance, and first-class varnish doesn’t stay sticky very long, it must dry immediately.  Even if it is foggy tomorrow, or dewy, it will be too late then to hurt it.  But, I must say, that is a remarkable story about the Chinaman.”

Kruse laughed.  “It is nonsense, Roswitha.  My wife, instead of paying attention to proper things, is always telling such tales, and when I go to put on a clean shirt there is a button off.  It has been so ever since we came here.  She always had just such stories in her head and the black hen besides.  And the black hen doesn’t even lay eggs.  After all, what can she be expected to lay eggs out of?  She never goes out, and such things as eggs can’t come from mere cock-a-doodle-dooing.  It is not to be expected of any hen.”

“See here, Kruse, I am going to repeat that to your wife.  I have always considered you a respectable man and now you say things like that about the cock-a-doodle-dooing.  Men are always worse than we think.  Really I ought to take this brush right now and paint a black moustache on your face.”

“Well, Roswitha, one could put up with that from you,” and Kruse, who was usually on his dignity, seemed about to change to a more flirting tone, when he suddenly caught sight of her Ladyship, who today came from the other side of the “Plantation” and just at this moment was passing along the garden fence.

“Good day, Roswitha, my, but you are merry.  What is Annie doing?”

“She is asleep, your Ladyship.”

As Roswitha said this she turned red and quickly breaking off the conversation, started toward the house to help her Ladyship change her clothes.  For it was doubtful whether Johanna was there.  She hung around a good deal over at the “office” nowadays, because there was less to do at home and Frederick and Christel were too tedious for her and never knew anything.

Annie was still asleep.  Effi leaned over the cradle, then had her hat and raincoat taken off and sat down upon the little sofa in her bedroom.  She slowly stroked back her moist hair, laid her feet on a stool, which Roswitha drew up to her, and said, as she evidently enjoyed the comfort of resting after a rather long walk:  “Roswitha, I must remind you that Kruse is married.”

“I know it, your Ladyship.”

“Yes, what all doesn’t one know, and yet one acts as though one did not know.  Nothing can ever come of this.”

“Nothing is supposed to come of it, your Ladyship.”