uld 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. And Mr. Feuerstein laid
himself out to win the owner of three tenements. He talked German
politics with him in High-German, and applauded his accent and his
opinions. He told stories of the old German Emperor and Bismarck, and
finally discovered that Brauner was an ardent admirer of Schiller. He
saw a chance to make a double stroke--to please Brauner and to feed his
own vanity.

"With your permission, sir," he said, "I will give a soliloquy from
Wallenstein."

Brauner went to the door leading down the private hall. "Mother!" he
called. "Come at once. Mr. Feuerstein's going to act."

Hilda was bubbling over with delight. Otto sat forgotten in the
corner. Mrs. Brauner came bustling, her face rosy from the kitchen
fire and her hands moist from a hasty washing. Mr. Feuerstein waited
until all were seated in front of him. He then rose and advanced with
stately tread toward the clear space. He rumpled his hair, drew down
his brows, folded his arms, and bega