s thoughts all the
time were on Hilda, in the corner, at the zither, playing the maddest,
most romantic music; her father therefore usually won, poor at the game
though he was. It made him cross to lose, and Otto sometimes defeated
his own luck deliberately when love refused to do it for him.

"Very well, then--that is--if I can--I'll try to come."

Several customers pushed past him into his shop and he had to rejoin
his partner, Schwartz, behind the counters. Brauner and his wife
walked slowly home--it was late and there would be more business than
Hilda and August could attend to. As they crossed Third Street
Brauner said: "Hilda must go and tell him to come. This is her doing."

"But she can't do that," objected Mrs. Brauner. "She'd say it was
throwing herself at his head."

"Not if I send her?" Brauner frowned with a seeming of severity. "Not
if I, her father, send her--for two chickens, as we're out?" Then he
laughed. His fierceness was the family joke when Hilda was small she
used to say, "Now, get mad, father, and make little Hilda laugh!"

Hilda was behind the counter, a customer watching with fascinated eyes
the graceful, swift movements of her arms and hands as she tied up a
bundle. Her sleeves were rolled to her dimpled elbows, and her arms
were round and strong and white, and her skin was fine and smooth. Her
shoulders were wide, but not square; her hips were narrow, her wrists,
her hands, her head, small. She looked healthy and vigorous and useful
as well as beautiful.

When the customers had gone Brauner said: "Go up to Schwartz and
Heilig, daughter, and ask them for two two-pound chickens. And tell
Otto Heilig you'll be glad to see him to-morrow."

"But we don't need the chickens, now. We--" Hilda's brow contracted
and her chin came out.

"Do as I tell you," said her father.

"MY children shall not sink to the disrespect of these days."

"But I shan't be here to-morrow! I've made another engagement."

"You SHALL be here to-morrow! If you don't wish young Heilig here for
your own sake, you must show consideration for your parents. Are they
to be deprived of their Sunday afternoon? You have never done this
before, Hilda. You have never forgotten us before."

Hilda hung her head; after a moment she unrolled her sleeves, laid
aside her apron and set out. She was repentant toward her father, but
she felt that Otto was to blame. She determined to make him suffer for
it--how e