As they got off the local train at B Street station they suddenly collided with the whole tribe of Sieppes—­the mother, father, three children, and Trina—­equipped for one of their eternal picnics.  They were to go to Schuetzen Park, within walking distance of the station.  They were grouped about four lunch baskets.  One of the children, a little boy, held a black greyhound by a rope around its neck.  Trina wore a blue cloth skirt, a striped shirt waist, and a white sailor; about her round waist was a belt of imitation alligator skin.

At once Mrs. Sieppe began to talk to Marcus.  He had written of their coming, but the picnic had been decided upon after the arrival of his letter.  Mrs. Sieppe explained this to him.  She was an immense old lady with a pink face and wonderful hair, absolutely white.  The Sieppes were a German-Swiss family.

“We go to der park, Schuetzen Park, mit alle dem childern, a little eggs-kursion, eh not soh?  We breathe der freshes air, a celubration, a pignic bei der seashore on.  Ach, dot wull be soh gay, ah?”

“You bet it will.  It’ll be outa sight,” cried Marcus, enthusiastic in an instant.  “This is m’ friend Doctor McTeague I wrote you about, Mrs. Sieppe.”

“Ach, der doktor,” cried Mrs. Sieppe.

McTeague was presented, shaking hands gravely as Marcus shouldered him from one to the other.

Mr. Sieppe was a little man of a military aspect, full of importance, taking himself very seriously.  He was a member of a rifle team.  Over his shoulder was slung a Springfield rifle, while his breast was decorated by five bronze medals.

Trina was delighted.  McTeague was dumfounded.  She appeared positively glad to see him.

“How do you do, Doctor McTeague,” she said, smiling at him and shaking his hand.  “It’s nice to see you again.  Look, see how fine my filling is.”  She lifted a corner of her lip and showed him the clumsy gold bridge.

Meanwhile, Mr. Sieppe toiled and perspired.  Upon him devolved the responsibility of the excursion.  He seemed to consider it a matter of vast importance, a veritable expedition.

“Owgooste!” he shouted to the little boy with the black greyhound, “you will der hound und basket number three carry.  Der tervins,” he added, calling to the two smallest boys, who were dressed exactly alike, “will releef one unudder mit der camp-stuhl und basket number four.  Dat is comprehend, hay?  When we make der start, you childern will in der advance march.  Dat is your orders.  But we do not start,” he exclaimed, excitedly; “we remain.  Ach Gott, Selina, who does not arrive.”

Selina, it appeared, was a niece of Mrs. Sieppe’s.  They were on the point of starting without her, when she suddenly arrived, very much out of breath.  She was a slender, unhealthy looking girl, who overworked herself giving lessons in hand-painting at twenty-five cents an hour.  McTeague was presented.  They all began to talk at once, filling the little station-house with a confusion of tongues.