down the echoing aisles, and Anna, who preferred her fugues
confused, felt that her spirit was being caught up to heaven, he had
looked at her rapt face and wet eyelashes, and patted her hand very
kindly, and said encouragingly, "In my youth I too cultivated Bach. Now
I cultivate pigs. Pigs are better."

Anna's mother had been his only sister, and he had come over, not, as he
told Susie, to see London, but to see Susie herself, and to find out how
it was that Anna had reached an age that in Germany is the age of old
maids without marrying. By the time he had spent two evenings in Hill
Street he had formed his opinion of his nephew and his nephew's wife,
and they remained fixed until his death. "The good Peter," he said
suddenly one day to Anna when they were wandering together in the maze
at Hampton Court--for he faithfully went the rounds of sightseeing
prescribed by Baedeker, and Anna followed him wherever he went--"the
good Peter is but a _Quatschkopf_."

"A _Quatschkopf_?" echoed Anna, whose acquaintance with her
mother-tongue did not extend to the byways of opprobrium. "What in the
world is a _Quatschkopf_?"

"_Quatschkopf_ is a _Duselfritz_," explained Uncle Joachim, "and also it
is the good Peter."

"I believe you are calling him ugly names," said Anna, slipping her arm
through his; by this time, if not kindred spirits, they were the best of
friends.

Uncle Joachim did not immediately reply. They had come to the open space
in the middle of the maze, and he sat down on the seat to recover his
breath, and to wipe his forehead; for though the wind was cold the sun
was fierce. "_Gott, was man Alles durchmacht auf Reisen!_" he sighed.
Then he put his handkerchief back into his pocket, looked up at Anna,
who was standing in front of him leaning on her sunshade, and said, "A
_Quatschkopf_ is a foolish fellow who marries a woman like that."

"Oh, poor Susie!" cried Anna, at once ready to defend her, and full of
the kindly feelings absence invariably produced. "Peter did a very
sensible thing. But I don't think Susie did, marrying Peter."

"He is a _Quatschkopf_," said Uncle Joachim, not to be shaken in his
opinions, "and the _geborene_ Dobbs is a vulgar woman who is not rich
enough."

"Not rich enough? Why, we are all suffocated by her money. We never hear
of anything else. It would be dreadful if she had still more."

"Not rich enough," persisted Uncle Joachim, pursing up his lips into an
expression of great