“’Their rapture gathers more and more;
      The sick are well again.’”

CHAPTER II.

In the doctor’s house at Buchberg.

The kitchen-garden is the especial delight of the true German housewife; that is, of one who lives in the country where such a luxury is possible.  The flower-garden is a source of pleasure to the whole family; but the vegetable-garden is her own, so to speak; she cares for it herself; she watches each little plant with her own eyes, and removes each encroaching weed with her own hands.  Now this year the cauliflowers were of unusually fine promise, and they excited the hopes of their owner that a wonderful harvest would before long reward her care; not a trace of a noxious worm was as yet to be detected.

“Good evening,” said some one from the other side of the hedge; “your vegetables are always the best and the most forward of any in the neighborhood; they show the care you take of them.”

The doctor’s wife came nearer to the hedge, and over the low barrier Heiri, the day-laborer, stretched his hand, stained and knotted with work, to clasp that of his old friend and schoolmate.  How often had he been to her for counsel and aid since those school-days, and when had that willing and helpful hand ever failed him?

“How are you all at home, Heiri?” she asked heartily.  “Have you plenty of work?  Are your wife and children well?”

“Yes, yes, thank God!” replied Heiri, as he lifted his heavy tools from his shoulder and set them on the ground.  “There is work enough; I am just taking these tools to be sharpened.  I have to keep hard at it, for the family is growing big.”

“The three little boys look finely; I saw them go by yesterday with Elsli,” continued the doctor’s wife.  “But Elsli herself looks quite too pale and delicate.  Do not forget how her mother died, Heiri.  The little girl ought not to have too much to do; she is not strong, and she is growing too fast.  Do take it in time, Heiri; you know by sad experience how rapidly disease gains ground when it has once got hold of a young girl.”

“Yes, yes, I can never forget that.  It was terrible to see how quickly Gritli sank,—­and she so young, so young!  Marget is a good wife and an industrious woman; but nothing will ever make me forget my poor Gritli”; and Heiri wiped away a few tears with his hard hand.

Tears were also in the eyes of the doctor’s wife, as she said, “Neither can I ever forget her, nor how gladly she would have lived for you and the children, nor how quickly it was all over.  Elsli is the very image of her mother, Heiri, and I cannot help fearing that she is working beyond her strength.”