ner nodded. "Heilig was up at half-past four this morning,"
she said. "He cleans out every morning and he moves everything twice a
week." She had a round, honest face that was an inspiring study in
simplicity, sense and sentiment.

"What a worker!" was her husband's comment. "So unlike most of the
young men nowadays. If August were only like him!"

"You'd think Heilig was a drone if he were your son," replied Mrs.
Brauner. She knew that if any one else had dared thus to attack their
boy, his father would have been growling and snapping like an angry
bear.

"That's right!" he retorted with mock scorn. "Defend your children!
You'll be excusing Hilda for putting off Heilig next."

"She'll marry him--give her time," said Mrs. Brauner. "She's romantic,
but she's sensible, too--why, she was born to make a good wife to a
hard-working man. Where's there another woman that knows the business
as she does? You admit on her birthdays that she's the only real
helper you ever had."

"Except you," said her husband.

"Never mind me." Mrs. Brauner pretended to disdain the compliment.

Brauner understood, however. "We have had the best, you and I," said
he.

"Arbeit und Liebe und Heim. Nicht wahr?" Otto Heilig appeared in his
doorway and greeted them awkwardly. Nor did their cordiality lessen
his embarrassment. His pink and white skin was rosy red and his frank
blue-gray eyes shifted uneasily. But he was smiling with eager
friendliness, showing even, sound, white teeth.

"You are coming to see us to-morrow?" asked Mrs. Brauner--he always
called on Sunday afternoons and stayed until five, when he had to open
shop for the Sunday supper rush.

"Why--that is--not exactly--no," he stammered. Hilda had told him not
to come, but he knew that if he admitted it to her parents they would
be severe with her. He didn't like anybody to be severe with Hilda,
and he felt that their way of helping his courtship was not suited to
the modern ideas. "They make her hate me," he often muttered. But if
he resented it he would offend them and Hilda too; if he acquiesced he
encouraged them and added to Hilda's exasperation.

Mrs. Brauner knew at once that Hilda was in some way the cause of the
break in the custom. "Oh, you must come," she said. "We'd feel
strange all week if we didn't see you on Sunday."

"Yes--I must have my cards," insisted Brauner. He and Otto always
played pinochle; Otto's eyes most of the time and hi