not crossed his sister's
threshold since her foolish marriage.

Simon Semmler was a short, restless, lean man with bulging fishlike eyes
and a face altogether like a pike--an uncanny fellow, in whom
exaggerated reserve often alternated with affability no less
affected--who would have liked to pass for a shrewd intellect but was
considered disagreeable instead. He was a quarrelsome chap, and
everybody grew more anxious to avoid him the farther he advanced toward
that age when persons of limited intellect are apt to make up in
pretensions for what they lose in usefulness. Nevertheless poor Margaret
was glad to see him, as she had no other relatives living.

"Simon, is that you?" she asked, trembling so that she had to steady
herself on a chair. "You want to see how I am getting along with my
dirty boy?"

Simon looked at her earnestly and clasped her hand. "You have grown old,
Margaret."

Margaret sighed. "I've had much sorrow and all kinds of bad luck since I
saw you."

"Yes, girl, marry at leisure, repent in haste! Now you are old and the
child is small. Everything has its time. But when an old house is
burning nothing will quench the fire." A flame, red as blood, flashed
across Margaret's care-worn face.

"But I hear your son is cunning and smart," Simon continued.

"Well, rather, but good withal," replied Margaret.

"H'm, some one once stole a cow; he was called 'good' too. But he is
quiet and thoughtful, isn't he? He doesn't run around with the other
boys?"

"He is a peculiar child," said Margaret, as though to herself; "it's not
a good thing."

Simon laughed aloud. "Your boy is timid because the others have given
him a few good thrashings. Don't worry, the lad will repay them!
Huelsmeyer came to see me lately; said the boy was like a deer."

What mother's heart does not rejoice when she hears her child praised?
Poor Margaret seldom had this pleasure; every one called her boy
malicious and close-mouthed. Tears started to her eyes. "Yes, thank God,
his limbs are straight!"

"What does he look like?" continued Simon.

"He's a good deal like you, Simon, a good deal." Simon laughed. "Indeed,
he must be a rare fellow; I'm getting better-looking every day. Of
course he shouldn't be wasting his time at school. You let him pasture
the cows? Just as well; what the teacher says isn't half true anyway.
But where does he pasture? In the Telgen glen? In the Roder woods? In
the Teutoburg forest? At night and earl