“Just creep under the old hen’s wings, my little chicken; she will keep you warm,” said the kind-hearted woman, kissing Eva.  But, as she began to plan for the removal of the sisters, more visitors were announced—­ indeed, several at once; first, Albert Ebner, of the Council, and his wife, then Frau Clara Loffelholz, who came without her husband, and the two daughters of the imperial ranger Waldstromer, Els’s most intimate friends.  They had come in from the forest-house the day before to attend Frau Maria Ortlieb’s burial.  Now, with their mother’s permission, they came to invite the deserted girls to the forest.  The others also begged the sisters to come to them, and so did Councillors Schurstab, Behaim, Gross, Holzschuher, and Pirckheimer, who came, some with their wives and some singly, to look after the daughters of their imprisoned colleague.

The great sitting-room was filled with guests, and the stalwart figures and shrewd, resolute faces of the men, the kind, good, and usually pleasing countenances of the women, whose blue eyes beamed with philanthropic benevolence, though they carried their heads high enough, afforded a delightful spectacle, and one well calculated to inspire respect.  There could be no doubt that those whose locks were already grey represented distinguished business houses and were accustomed to manage great enterprises.  There was not a single one whom the title “Honour of the Family” could not have well befitted; and what cheerful self-possession echoed in the deep voices of the men, what maternal kindness in those of the elder women, most of whom also spoke in sonorous tones!

Els and Eva often cast stolen glances at each other as they greeted the visitors, thanked them, answered questions, gave explanations, accepted apologies, received and courteously declined invitations.  They did not comprehend what had produced this sudden change of feeling in so many of their equals in rank, what had brought them in such numbers at so late an hour, as if the slightest delay was an offence, to their quiet house, which that very day had seemed to Frau Vorkler too evil to permit her children to remain in its service.

The old magistrate and his wife, on the contrary, thought that they knew.  They had helped the sisters to receive the first callers; but when Frau Barbara Behaim, a cousin of the late Frau Maria, had appeared, they gave up their post to her, and slipped quietly into the next room to escape the throng.

There they retired to the niche formed by the deep walls of the broad central window of the house, and Herr Berthold Pfinzing whispered to his wife:  “There was too much philanthropy and kindness for me in there.  A great deal of honey at once cloys me.  But you, prophetess, foresaw what is now occurring, and I, too, scarcely expected anything different.  So long as one still has a doublet left compassion is in no haste, but when the last shirt is stripped from the body charity—­thank the saints!—­ moves faster.  We are most ready to help those who, we feel very sure, are suffering more than they deserve.  There are many motherless children; but young girls who have lost both parents, exposed to every injustice——­”