id="pgepubid00086">Mrs. Brauer.

You are entirely too modest, my darling.

Gertrude.

Well, just imagine, mama dear, she was going to be married--and I remained at home----

Mrs. Brauer.

Then we would retain our sunshine, our consolation, our---- [Looking at breakfast table with a questioning expression.] But, children, I can't understand----

Gertrude.

What, mama dear?

Mrs. Brauer.

Gracious! Everything is so--so-- [Topsy-turvy indicated by action.] If she is not going to sleep, she may as well come down here----

Gertrude.

[Laughingly caressing her mama.] There, you see, mama, dear, not even a single meal can you eat without her.

[George von Harten enters.]

Brauer.

Well, at last you have aroused yourself; you----

George.

[Interrupts him, tapping his hand.] There, softly, softly, dear uncle; don't begin scolding so early in the morning.

Brauer.

Don't you think it's pretty near time to call me father, my boy?

George.

Not until after the wedding, dear uncle.--Good-morning, auntie. [Kissing her hand.] Well, little one? [Kissing her.]

Gertrude.

[Leans on him lovingly.] My George. [Laughs suddenly.] Oh, just look! he is simply covered with hay!

George.

Then you may make yourself useful by brushing me off.

Brauer.

The hayloft seems to be your favorite sleeping-place lately.

George.

Sleep? Heavens! who could sleep in this weather? I roam about. Lord knows where, over meadows and fields. Such St. John days!!! It's enough to drive one mad. The days never seem to end. Late last night I was sitting in front of my window. Said I to myself: "No sleep for me to-night, until that cursed nightingale runs out of melody"--when suddenly a meadow-lark announces the break of day--and there, it's morning. To the left, the twilight: to the right, the dawn, peacefully together. From glow to glow a new day arises. Children, I tell you, it was beautiful. Give me a cup of coffee.

Brauer.

But, tell me! Are you going to remain here now?

George.

Why, certainly, until after the wedding.

Brauer.

But the propriety of such a thing----

Gertrude.

[Imploringly.] Oh, papa dear----

George.

Its immaterial to me. Under no circumstances do I desire to offend your sense of propriety; but then I will stay down at the inn, as the nearest place.

Brauer.

And in the morning you will bring us the house full of fleas.

Mrs. Brauer.

But, Henry----

Brauer.

Well, it's so.

George.

If you will allow me! The wedding was set for the twentieth; therefore I obtained my first furlough from the nineteenth--and I trust you realize that I can't change the dates to suit myself. I arrived on the twentieth--and the wedding, of course--it was postponed.

Mrs. Brauer.

But, George dear, neither your home, nor anything else was ready.

George.

And besides, where am I to go? My own home is broken up; Marie has had everything torn up. By the way, has she returned?

Gertrude.

[Nods.]

Mrs. Brauer.

Why, what's the matter? Have you two had another quarrel?

George.

No, certainly not; but I should not have allowed the girl to make a drudge of herself for my sake. I almost wish I had remained at home.

Gertrude.

Why, she is not doing all this for your sake, but for mine.

George.

Now there, don't be conceited.

Mrs. Brauer.

[Caressing her.] I think she has cause to be conceited.

George.

As my future wife, she certainly has cause to be that.

Brauer.

There, there, don't you overrate yourself.

George.

I don't, dear uncle; I am too practical for that.

Brauer.

So, so, you are too practical, eh? then what the devil possessed you to leave this piece of paper on my desk? eh?

George.

Uncle, I beg of you, don't let us begin quarreling so early in the day.

Brauer.

[Angry still.] Very well, but what does it mean?

George.

It is simply a statement of my affairs. I am a free and independent man, and that is to show you that I am not only willing but also able to properly support my wife.

Brauer.

[Still worked up.] But I tell you----

Marie.

[Enters R.] Oh--pardon me, papa--good-morning!

Gertrude.

[Throws arms around her.] Marie!

Marie.

[Kisses her.] My darling!

[She goes to Brauer and kisses his hand.]

Brauer.

You are back all right, I see! Here, here! [Puts hand under her chin.] Head thrown back, I say--why, what's the matter? anything gone wrong with you, eh?

Marie.

[Uncertain.] N--no!

Brauer.

[To his wife.] Look at her--she is positively livid.

Mrs. Brauer.

What is the matter, my child?

Marie.

Mama, dear, I sat up all night in the train and have had no sleep at all.

Brauer.

And how much longer will it take you----?

Marie.

Only one more trip to town,--but pardon me, papa, the new assistant pastor is at the gate and----

Brauer.

Who?

Marie.

The new assistant pastor.

[Gertrude snickers.]

Brauer.