o wait in the parsonage till it
was over, but on entering the sitting-room, a round active little woman
about forty years old came forward to receive them. Everything about her
was round, arms and fingers, head, cheeks and lips; and her round eyes
twinkled so merrily in her round smiling face that one would at once
jump to the conclusion that she had never known sorrow, and her every
action was so cheery and full of life that one could easily see that she
had a warm heart in her breast. "How d'ye do, Mr. Braesig, sit down, sit
down. My pastor is still in church, but he would scold me if I allowed
you to go away. Sit down, Sir--who are you? I should have liked to have
gone to church today, but only think, the clergyman's seat broke down
last Sunday; lots of people go to it, you see, and one can't say 'no,'
and old Pruesshawer, the carpenter, who was to have mended it this week,
is down with a fever." Her words poured out smoothly like polished
billiard-balls rolled by a happy child over the green cloth.

Braesig now introduced Hawermann as Mrs. Nuessler's brother. "And so you
are her brother Charles. _Do_ sit down, my pastor will be delighted to
see you. Whenever Mrs. Nuessler comes here she tells us something about
you, and always in your praise--Mr. Braesig can vouch for that. Good
gracious, Braesig, what have _you_ got to do with my hymn-book? Just put
it down, will you. _You_ never read such things, you are nothing but an
old heathen. These are hymns for the dying, and what are hymns for the
dying to you? _You_ are going to live for ever. You're not a whit better
than the wandering Jew! One has to think of death sometimes, and as our
seat is broken, and the old carpenter has a fever, I have been reading
some meditations for the dying." While saying this she quickly picked up
her books and put them away, carefully going through the unnecessary
ceremony of dusting a spotless shelf before laying them down on it.
Suddenly she went to the door leading to the kitchen, and stood there
listening; then exclaiming: "I was sure I heard it--the soup's boiling
over," hastened from the room. "Well, Charles--wasn't I right? Isn't she
a cheery, wholesome-natured woman? I'll go and arrange it all for you,"
and he followed Mrs. Behrens to the kitchen.

Hawermann looked round the room, and admired the cleanly, comfortable,
home-like, and peaceful look of everything around him. Over the sofa was
a picture of our Saviour, and encircling