tempted was proof against
temptation; if Kurt chose to starve, starve he would with food at his
elbow.

"Oh, papa," she cried, helplessly, "what IS the matter with you?"

"Just dying is the matter with me, Thekla. If I can't die one way I kin
another. Now Thekla, I want you to quit crying and listen. After I'm
gone you go to the boss, young Mr. Lossing--but I always called him
Harry because he learned his trade of me, Thekla, but he don't think of
that now--and you tell him old Lieders that worked for him thirty years
is dead, but he didn't hold no hard feelings, he knowed he done wrong
'bout that mantel. Mind you tell him."

"Yes, papa," said Thekla, which was a surprise to Kurt; he had dreaded
a weak flood of tears and protestations. But there were no tears, no
protestations, only a long look at him and a contraction of the eyebrows
as if Thekla were trying to think of something that eluded her. She
placed the coffee on the tray beside the other breakfast. For a while
the room was very still. Lieders could not see the look of resolve that
finally smoothed the perplexed lines out of his wife's kind, simple old
face. She rose. "Kurt," she said, "I don't guess you remember this is
our wedding-day; it was this day, eighteen year we was married."

"So!" said Lieders, "well, I was a bad bargain to you, Thekla; after
you nursed your father that was a cripple for twenty years, I thought it
would be easy with me; but I was a bad bargain."

"The Lord knows best about that," said Thekla, simply, "be it how it
be, you are the only man I ever had or will have, and I don't like you
starve yourself. Papa, say you don't kill yourself, to-day, and dat you
will eat your breakfast!"

"Yes," Lieders repeated in German, "a bad bargain for thee, that is
sure. But thou hast been a good bargain for me. Here! I promise. Not
this day. Give me the coffee."

He had seasons, all the morning, of wondering over his meekness, and
his agreement to be tied up again, at night. But still, what did a
day matter? a man humors women's notions; and starving was so tedious.
Between whiles he elaborated a scheme to attain his end. How easy to
outwit the silly Thekla! His eyes shone, as he hid the little, sharp
knife up his cuff. "Let her tie me!" says Lieders, "I keep my word.
To-morrow I be out of this. He won't git a man like me, pretty soon!"

Thekla went about her daily tasks, with her every-day air; but, now and
again, that same pucker of thoug