here
there is a big engineering plant here in Milwaukee, and she begs her
husband he should come, because this boy she loves very much--Oh, she
loves her young husband too, but different, yes?"

"Oh, yes," I agreed, remembering the gay little trilling laugh, and the
face that was so young when animated, and so old and worn in repose.
"Oh, yes. Quite, quite different."

Frau Knapf smoothed her spotless skirt and shook her head slowly and
sadly. "So-o-o-o, by Amerika they come. And Konrad Nirlanger he is maybe
a little cross and so, because for a year they have been in the courts,
and it might have been the money they would lose, and for money Konrad
Nirlanger cares--well, you shall see. But Frau Nirlanger must not mourn
and cry. She must laugh and sing, and be gay for her husband. But Frau
Nirlanger has no grand clothes, for first she runs away with Konrad
Nirlanger, and then her money is tied in the law. Now she has again her
money, and she must be young--but young!"

With a gesture that expressed a world of pathos and futility Frau Knapf
flung out her arms. "He must not see that she looks different as the
ladies in this country. So Frau Nirlanger wants she should buy here in
the stores new dresses--echt Amerikanische. All new and beautiful things
she would have, because she must look young, ain't it? And perhaps her
boy will remember her when he is a fine young man, if she is yet young
when he grows up, you see? And too, there is the young husband. First,
she gives up her old life, and her friends and her family for this man,
and then she must do all things to keep him. Men, they are but children,
after all," spake the wise Frau Knapf in conclusion. "They war and cry
and plead for that which they would have, and when they have won, then
see! They are amused for a moment, and the new toy is thrown aside."

"Poor, plain, vivacious, fascinating little Frau Nirlanger!" I said. "I
wonder just how much of pain and heartache that little musical laugh of
hers conceals?"

"Ja, that is so," mused Frau Knapf. "Her eyes look like eyes that have
wept much, not? And so you will be so kind and go maybe to select the so
beautiful clothes?"

"Clothes?" I repeated, remembering the original errand. "But dear lady!
How, does one select clothes for a woman of forty who would not weary
her husband? That is a task for a French modiste, a wizard, and a fairy
godmother all rolled into one."

"But you will do it, yes?" urged Frau Knapf.