but sat smiling vaguely at him, looking
very pretty and very shy. She soon found that her smiles were
inappropriate, and they died away; for, warming as he proceeded, the
parson, it appeared, was taking it for granted that she intended to live
on her property, and was eloquently descanting on the comfort she was
going to be to the poor, assuring those present that she would be a
mother to the sick, nursing them with her tender woman's hands, an angel
of mercy to the hungry, feeding them in the hour of their distress, a
friend and sister to the little children, succouring them, caring for
them, pitiful of their weakness and their sins. His face lit up with
enthusiasm as he went on, and Anna was thankful that Susie could not
understand. This crowd of children, the women, the young parson, her
coachman, were all hearing promises made on her behalf that she had no
thought of fulfilling. She looked down, and twisted her fingers about
nervously, and felt uncomfortable.

At the end of his speech, the parson, his eyes full of the tears drawn
forth by his own eloquence, held up his hand and solemnly blessed her,
rounding off his blessing with a loud Amen, after which there was an
awkward pause. Susie heard the Amen, and guessed that something in the
nature of a blessing was being invoked, and made a movement of
impatience. The parson was odious in her eyes, first because he looked
like the ministers of the Baptist chapels of her unmarried youth, but
principally because he was keeping her there in the gale and prolonging
the tortures she was enduring from the smell of fish. Anna did not know
what to say after the Amen, and looked up more shyly than ever, and
stammered in her confusion _Danke sehr_, hoping that it was a proper
remark to make; whereupon the parson bowed again, as one who should say
Pray don't mention it. Then another man, evidently the schoolmaster,
took out a tuning-fork, gave out a note, and the children sang a
_chorale_, following it up with other more cheerful songs, in which the
words _Fruehling_ and _Willkommen_ were repeated a great many times,
while the wind howled flattest contradiction.

When this was over, the parson begged leave to introduce the other
clerical-looking person, a tall narrow youth, also in white kid gloves,
buttoned up tightly in a long coat of broadcloth, with a pallid face and
thick, upright flaxen hair.

"Herr Vicar Klutz," said the elder parson, with a wave of the hand; and
the Her