hy ask? Even the Holy One before whose
altar she rubbed the pavement with her brow gave her no answer, and
there was only one answer for which she yearned.--

On Sunday evening sounds of merriment pealed forth from the tavern. The
men of the village were inside. Too bad that a Sunday had intervened,
otherwise they might have harvested the last load. Now they must on the
morrow go out once more into the fields. But--all hands on deck! Women,
the older children too, even the old men must not shirk tomorrow, and
then, hurrah! it would be all over for this year!

In the street the children were playing. They had established
themselves right in front of Widow Driesch's house; the two flagstones
that served as steps to the front door were so convenient for playing
jackstones, or only to sit on, with the hands about the bent knees and
the nose uplifted, while you yelled to the insects swarming in the warm
air:

"Come, linnet, come,
Come beat my drum!"

Old Katherine kept her door and window tightly closed; the
children's noise was painful to her. She sat by the hearth, with her
head swathed in a thick kerchief; but she heard the cries
nevertheless.

"Come, linnet, come!"

"William, come!" Lifting up both arms, she stretched her trembling
fingers beseechingly on high. He had not come today either. Jesus,
Mary, where could he be staying so long? Of yore he had stayed away
much longer, a whole year, years at a time, and she had never so longed
to see him--then he had been well off, she knew--but now, how was it
with him now? A frightful uncertainty tormented her. She had never seen
a jail, and of the young men hereabouts nobody had ever been in one.
Did he get enough to eat there; did they keep him warm? Who stroked his
brow when he had a headache?

"Come, linnet, come!"

The children's singsong caused her almost physical pain. Hobbling to
the window, she opened it so violently that it nearly fell from its
warped frame, and cried out, "Get away from here, go along," and
threatened with clenched fist.

The children were abashed; they had not been accustomed to being driven
away from here. The littlest began to weep; but Heid's Peterkin from
next door, feeling safe in the proximity of his father's house, stuck
out his tongue and yelled, as he retired toward the paternal door,
"Incendiary, incendiary, your William is an incendiary, they are going
to ha