riously, and then said: "Ah! I see now, it's because mine were
wet through in the ditch last night, so they've given me a suit
belonging to his Reverence. All right then!--here goes." But it did not
go so easily after all! And as for comfort, that was totally out of the
question. The trousers were a very good length, but were frightfully
tight. The lower buttons of the waistcoat could neither be coaxed nor
forced into the button-holes, and when he put on the coat, there was an
ominous cracking somewhere between the shoulders. As for his arms, they
stood out from his body as if he were prepared to press the whole world
to his faithful heart on this particular Sunday.

After he was dressed he went down stairs, and joined Mrs. Behrens in the
parlor. As to his legs, he looked and walked very much as he had done
ever since he had received his pension; but as to the upper part of his
body! Mrs. Behrens burst out laughing when she saw him, and immediately
took refuge behind the breakfast table, for he advanced with his arms
outstretched as if he wished to make her the first recipient of his
world-embrace. "Keep away from me, Braesig!" she laughed. "If I had ever
imagined that my pastor's good clothes would have looked so ridiculous
on you I'd have let you remain in bed till dinner-time, for your own
things won't be washed and dried before that." "Oh, ho!" laughed Braesig,
"that was the reason you sent me these things, was it? I thought perhaps
you wanted to dress me up for another _randyvoo_ today." "Now, just
listen to me, Braesig!" said little Mrs. Behrens, blushing furiously. "I
forbid you to make such jokes. And when you're going about in the
neighborhood--you have nothing to do now except to carry gossip from one
house to another--if you ever tell any one about that wretched
_rendezvous_ of last night--I'll never speak to you again." "Mrs.
Behrens, you may trust me not to do that," here he went nearer the
clergyman's wife with both arms outstretched, and she once more
retreated behind the table. "Indeed, you've nothing to fear. I'm not a
Jesuit." "No, Braesig, you're an old heathen, but you arn't a Jesuit. But
if you say anything about it * * * Oh me! Hawermann must be told, my
pastor says so. But if he asks about it, don't mention my name, please.
Oh, dear! If the Pomuchelskopps were ever to hear of it, I should be the
most miserable of women. God knows, Braesig, that what I did, I did for
the best, and for the sake of th