uilding up the weaker parts of her reputation on a
foundation of what Karlchen, when he saw the inmates of the house,
rudely stigmatised as _alte Schachteln_. Reputations, he reflected,
staring at Fraeulein Kuhraeuber, may be too dearly bought. Naturally she
would prefer an easy-going husband, who would let her see life with all
its fun, to this dreary and aimless existence.

The Treumanns, he thought, were in luck. What a burden his mother had
been on him for the last five years! Miss Estcourt had relieved him of
it. Now there were his debts, and she would relieve him of those; and
the little entanglement she must have had at home would not matter in
Germany, where no one knew anything about her, except that she was the
highly respectable Joachim's niece. Anyway, he was perfectly willing to
let bygones be bygones. He left his bag at the inn at Kleinwalde, an
impossible place as he noted with pleasure, sent away his _Droschke_,
and walked round to the house; but he did not see Anna. She kept out of
the way till the evening, and he had ample time to be happy with his
mother. When he did see her, he fell in love with her at once. He had
quite a simple nature, composed wholly of instincts, and fell in love
with an ease acquired by long practice. Anna's face and figure were far
prettier than he had dared to hope. She was a beauty, he told himself
with much satisfaction. Truly the Treumanns were in luck. He entirely
forgot the _role_ he was to play of loving son, and devoted himself,
with his habitual artlessness, to her. Indeed, if he had not forgotten
it, he and his mother were so little accustomed to displays of affection
that they would have been but clumsy actors. There is a great difference
between affectionate letters written quietly in one's room, and
affectionate conversation that has to sound as though it welled up from
one's heart. Nothing of the kind ever welled up from Karlchen's heart;
and Anna noticed at once that there were no signs of unusual attachment
between mother and son. Karlchen was not even commonly polite to his
mother, nor did she seem to expect him to be. When she dropped her
scissors, she had to pick them up for herself. When she lost her
thimble, she hunted for it alone. When she wanted a footstool, she got
up and fetched one from under his very nose. When she came into the room
and looked about for a chair, it was Letty who offered her hers.
Karlchen sat comfortably with his legs crossed, playin