ll, how do you feel about it, Agnes? Do you want to go back to your
daddy?" said Philippina, turning to the girl, and looking at Frau
Hadebusch in a knowing way.

Agnes's face clouded up. She hated her father. This was the point to
which Philippina had brought matters by her incessant whisperings and
ugly remarks behind Daniel's back. Agnes was convinced that she was a
burden to her father, and his marriage had merely confirmed what she
already felt she knew. Deep in her silent soul she carried the picture
of her prematurely deceased mother, as if it were that of a woman who
had been murdered, sacrificed. Philippina had told her how her mother
had committed suicide; it was a fearful tale in her language. It had
been the topic of conversation between her and her charge on many a
cold, dark winter evening. Agnes always said that when she was big and
could talk, she would take vengeance on her father.

When she could talk! That was her most ardent wish. For she was
silent-born. Her soul pined in a prison that was much harsher and harder
than that in which her mother's soul had been housed and harassed.
Gertrude had some bright moments; Agnes never. She was incapable of
enthusiasm; she could not look up. For her heart, her soul was not
merely asleep, torpid, lethargic; it was hopelessly dried up, withered.
Life was not in it.

"I am not going to those Doederleins," she said, crying.

But in the evening Daniel came over. He took Philippina to one side, and
had a serious talk with her. He explained the reasons for his getting
married a third time as well as he could without going too deeply into
the subject. "I needed a wife; I needed a woman to keep house for me; I
needed a companion. Philippina, I am very grateful to you for what you
have done, but there must also be a woman in my home who can cheer me
up, turn my thoughts to higher things. I have a heavy calling; that you
cannot appreciate. So don't get stubborn, Philippina. Pack up your
things, and come back home. How can we get along without you?"

For the first time in his life he spoke to her as though she were a
woman and a human being. Philippina stared at him. Then she burst out
into a loud, boisterous laugh, and began to show her whole supply of
scorn. "Jesus, Daniel, how you c'n flatter a person! Who'd a thought it!
You've always been such a sour dough. Very well. Say: 'Dear Philippina!'
Say it real slow: 'D-e-a-r Philippina,' and then I'll come."

Daniel lo