ad never thought to sit by
their own fireside and discuss suicide. The husband spoke first; with
a reluctant, half-shamed smile, "Thekla, I tell you what, I make the
bargain with you; you git me back that place, I don't do it again, 'less
you let me; you don't git me back that place, you don't say notings to
me."

The apron dropped from the withered, brown hands to the floor. Again
there was silence; but not for long; ghastly as was the alternative, the
proposal offered a chance to escape from the terror that was sapping her
heart.

"How long will you give me, papa?" said she.

"I give you a week," said he.

Thekla rose and went to the door; as she opened it a fierce gust of wind
slashed her like a knife, and Lieders exclaimed, fretfully, "what you
opening that door for, Thekla, letting in the wind? I'm so cold, now,
right by the fire, I most can't draw. We got to keep a fire in the
base-burner good, all night, or the plants will freeze."

Thekla said confusedly that something sounded like a cat crying. "And
you talking like that it frightened me; maybe I was wrong to make such
bargains------"

"Then don't make it," said Lieders, curtly, "I aint asking you."

But Thekla drew a long breath and straightened herself, saying, "Yes, I
make it, papa, I make it."

"Well, put another stick of wood in the stove, will you, now you are
up?" said Lieders, shrugging his shoulders, "or I'll freeze in spite of
you! It seems to me it grows colder every minute."

But all that day he was unusually gentle with Thekla. He talked of his
youth and the struggles of the early days of the firm; he related a
dozen tales of young Lossing, all illustrating some admirable trait that
he certainly had not praised at the time. Never had he so opened his
heart in regard to his own ideals of art, his own ambitions. And Thekla
listened, not always comprehending but always sympathizing; she was
almost like a comrade, Kurt thought afterward.

The next morning, he was surprised to have her appear equipped for the
street, although it was bitterly cold. She wore her garb of ceremony, a
black alpaca gown, with a white crocheted collar neatly turned over the
long black, broadcloth cloak in which she had taken pride for the last
five years; and her quilted black silk bonnet was on her gray head. When
she put up her foot to don her warm overshoes Kurt saw that the stout
ankles were encased in white stockings. This was the last touch.
"Gracious, Thekl