Brauner flung this at Mr. Feuerstein in High-German. Hilda, mortified and alarmed, was also proud that her father was showing Mr. Feuerstein that she came of people who knew something, even if they were ``trades-folk.''
``I can answer all your questions to your satisfaction,'' replied Mr. Feuerstein loftily, with a magnanimous wave of his white hand. ``My friends will speak for me. And I shall give you the addresses of my noble relatives in Germany, though I greatly fear they will oppose my marriage. You, sir, were born in the Fatherland. You know their prejudices.''
``Don't trouble yourself,'' said Brauner ironically. ``Just take yourself off and spare yourself the disgrace of mingling with us plain folk. Hilda, go to your room!'' Brauner pointed the stem of his pipe toward the outside door and looked meaningly at Mr. Feuerstein.
Hilda, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed, put herself between Mr. Feuerstein and the door. ``I guess I've got something to say about that!'' she exclaimed. ``Father, you can't make me marry Otto Heilig. I HATE him. I guess this is a free country. I shall marry Mr. Feuer--Carl.'' She went up to him and put her arm through his and looked up at him lovingly.
He drew her to him protectingly, and for an instant something of her passionate enthusiasm fired him, or rather, the actor in him.
Otto laid his hand on Brauner's arm.
``Don't you see, sir,'' he said in Low-German, very earnestly, ``that you're driving her to him? I beg you''--in a lower tone --``for the sake of her future--don't drive him out, and her with him. If he really would make her a good husband, why not let her have him? If he's not what he claims, she won't have him.''
Brauner hesitated. ``But she's yours. Her mother and I have promised. We are people of our word.''
``But I won't marry her--not unless she wishes it, she herself.
And nothing can be done until this man has had a chance.''
It was evident from Brauner's face that he was yielding to this common sense. Hilda looked at Otto gratefully. ``Thank you, Otto,'' she said. He shook his head mournfully and turned away.
Brauner gave Mr. Feuerstein a contemptuous glance. ``Perhaps Otto's right,'' he growled. ``You can stay. Let us have our game, Otto.''
Mrs. Brauner hurried to the kitchen to make ready for four-o'clock coffee and cake. Hilda arranged the table for pinochle, and when her father and Otto were seated, motioned her lover to a seat beside her on the sofa.
``Heart's bride,'' he said in a low tone, ``I am prostrated by what I have borne for your sake.''
``I love you,'' she said softly, her young eyes shining like Titania's when she was garlanding her ass-headed lover. ``You were right, my beloved. We shall win--father is giving in. He's very good-natured, and now he's used to the idea of our love.''
Otto lost the game, and, with his customary patience, submitted to the customary lecture on his stupidity as a player. Brauner was once more in a good humor. Having agreed to tolerate Mr. Feuerstein, he was already taking a less unfavorable view of him.
