remain in Germany," he said. "America has
no respect for parents. It has no discipline. It is a country without
law."

She felt a weakening in him, and followed up her advantage.

"And another thing, while we're at it," she flung at him. "Don't you go
on trying to shove Rudolph down my throat. I'm off Rudolph for keeps."

She flung out her arm, and old Herman saw the gleam of something gold on
her wrist. He caught her hand in his iron grip and shoved up her sleeve.
There was a tiny gold wrist-watch there, on a flexible chain. His
amazement and rage gave her a moment to think, although she was
terrified.

"Where did you get that?"

"The mill gave them to the stenographers for Christmas."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"We're not talking much these days, are we?"

He let her go then, and that night, in the little room behind Gustav
Shroeder's saloon, he put the question to Rudolph. Because he was
excited and frightened he made slow work of his inquiry, and Rudolph had
a moment to think.

"Sure," he replied. "All the girls in the executive offices got them."

But when the meeting was over, Rudolph did not go back to his
boarding-house. He walked the streets and thought.

He had saved Anna from her father. But he was of no mind to save her
from himself. She would have to account to him for that watch.

Anna herself lay awake until late. She saw already the difficulties
before her. Herman was suspicious. He might inquire. There were other
girls from the mill offices on the hill. And he might speak to Rudolph.

The next evening she found Rudolph waiting for her outside the mill
gate. Together they started up what had been, when Herman bought the
cottage, a green hill with a winding path. But the smoke and ore from
the mill had long ago turned it to bareness, had killed the trees and
shrubbery, and filled the little hollows where once the first arbutus
had hidden with cinders and ore dust. The path had become a crooked
street, lined with wooden houses, and paved with worn and broken bricks.

Where once Herman Klein had carried his pail and whistled bits of
Shubert as he climbed along, a long line of blackened men made their
evening way. Untidy children sat on the curb, dogs lay in the center
of the road, and women in all stages of dishabille hung over the high
railings of their porches and watched for their men.

Under protest of giving her a lift up the hill, Rudolph slipped his hand
through Anna's left arm.