CHAPTER II
THE HOME ON THE HILL
As Otto and his sister rushed into the long hall with its stone floor,they were met by Trina, an old and faithful servant, who held the lampshe was carrying high above her head to avoid getting the light in hereyes.
"You are here at last," she said half impatiently and halfindulgently. "Your mother has been wanting you, and we have all waitedfor you until long after supper time."
Trina had been in the family before the children were born, and sheexercised the same authority over them as did the parents, while shewas even more indulgent. In fact, she idolized them both; but fortheir good, according to her views, she did not wish them to be toosure of it. Consequently she was always trying to be somewhat grufffor their especial benefit.
"Out of your shoes and into your slippers!" she commanded. She put thelight down, and kneeling before Otto she unfastened his shoes and putthe dry slippers on his feet. In the meantime she was urging thelittle sister to begin removing her wet shoes, but Miezi stoodlistening intently to something she thought she heard from the livingroom.
"Well," said Trina, "are you going to wait until next summer? Yourshoes will be dry before then."
"Hush!" warned Miezi with upraised hand; "I heard something. Who is inthe other room, Trina?"
"Only people with dry shoes are going in there," said Trina, stillkneeling before Otto.
Just then Miezi gave a startled exclamation. "There, I heard it again!It is Uncle Max's laugh, I am sure."
"What!" exclaimed Otto, and both children rushed for the living roomdoor. "Let me go in first, Otto; I heard him first!" cried Miezi,endeavoring to push herself ahead of him; but Trina picked her up inher arms and carried her to the hall seat, where the old servant had ahard time trying to get the wet shoes from the impatient feet. Themoment the girl was released she bounded into the living room and intoUncle Max's arms, for it was really he, sitting in the large armchair,looking as happy and prosperous as ever.
The children quite worshiped Uncle Max. He was their especial friend,from whom they had no secrets. His travels kept him away much of thetime, and they seldom saw him more than once a year, but this seemedto make his visits the more appreciated, especially as he alwaysbrought them remembrances from the remotest parts of the world. Eachtime he came seemed a holiday to the children.
To-night they were hurried to the table, where a steaming supperawaited them. The children's excitement over the uncle's coming abatedsomewhat before this enjoyment, for coasting always brought sharpenedappetites. Miezi was industriously engaged with her soup when herfather said: "I think my little girl has forgotten her papa to-night.I missed my usual kiss and handshake."
Miezi instantly let her spoon drop and pushed her chair back to run tothe neglected parent, but he stopped her with, "No, no, you need nottrouble now."
"I didn't mean to forget you, papa," she said.
"We will make up for it after supper, Miezchen," said the father."What did we christen the child, anyway?" he continued. "Wasn't itMaria?"
"I was there when she was baptized," said Max, "but I cannot remember.It surely was not Miezchen."
"Of course you were there," asserted his sister. "You were the child'sgodfather, and we called her Marie. It was papa himself who firstcalled her Miezchen, and Otto made it still worse."
"No, mamma, surely not worse," interposed Otto. "You see, Uncle Max,it is like this: if she is a good little girl I call her Miezchen;this she is so seldom, however, that I usually call her Miezi. Whenshe is angry and looks like a little ruffled hen, I call her Miez."
"And when Otto is angry, what does he look like?" inquired Uncle Max,addressing Miezi.
Before she could think of a comparison, Otto answered, "Like a man!"
They all laughed so heartily that Miezi stirred her soup violently inher confusion.
Uncle Max tactfully changed the subject: "It has been over a yearsince I have seen you children, and I wish you would tell me what youhave been doing while I have been away."
Naturally the latest news was related first, and, in their eagernessto have Uncle Max know everything, both children wished to speak atonce. Among other things they told of the fun they had in school, andthat led Otto to tell about his experience with Chappi and Wiseli; howshe had been driven into the snowdrift and rudely treated, and how,though she had no sled, she finally had had two rides on his.
"That was right, Otto," said his father; "always take the part of theweak and the oppressed, and honor the meaning of your name. Who isthis little girl you speak of?"
"I doubt if you know her," answered Mrs. Ritter, "but Max knew themother very well. You remember the frail linen weaver that lived nearus? She was his daughter and only child, and she used to come often tothe parsonage. She was a pretty girl with large brown eyes, and shecould sing beautifully. Do you remember whom I mean?"
Just at this moment Trina brought in a message: "Joiner Andreas begspermission to speak with Mrs. Ritter, if it will not disturb her."
Quite a commotion followed this announcement. Mrs. Ritter dropped thespoon with which she was serving, and saying hastily, "Excuse me,please," left the room.
Otto and Miezi immediately pushed back their chairs to go also, butUncle Max held Miezi fast. Otto stumbled over something in his haste,and Miezi struggled hard to free herself. "Do let me go, Uncle Max!Let me go!" she cried.
"Why do you want to go, Miezchen?"
"To see Joiner Andreas. Let me go. Help me, papa."
"Tell me why you want to see Joiner Andreas, and I will let you go."
"My sheep has but two legs left and no tail, and only Joiner Andreasknows how to fix it. Now let me go."
Miezi's papa and Uncle Max laughed as she ran from the room.
"Who is this man that has the whole household at his command?"inquired Uncle Max.
"You ought to know better than I," answered Colonel Ritter. "Verylikely he is an old playmate of yours. I am sure you would enjoyknowing him. Your sister makes us all love him. He is really thecorner stone of this household, without whom things generally would goto rack and ruin. It doesn't matter what happens, for 'Joiner Andreaswill fix it.' In fact he is helper, adviser, comforter, and friend,all in one."
"You may laugh," said Mrs. Ritter, who returned just then, "but I knowthat Joiner Andreas is a comfort."
"So do I," said the husband, playfully.
"So do I," echoed Miezi, as she seated herself at the table.
"So do I," added Otto, who was rubbing the knuckles he had bruised inhis hasty exit.
"Then we are all agreed," said the mother. "Now I want you children togo to bed."
"To which we are not all agreed," said Otto, teasingly.
However, Trina came and they were obliged to go. The mother followedafter a time, as was her custom, to hear the children's eveningprayer and receive their last embrace for the night. This oftenrequired some time, for they were eager to tell her many things, anddetained her for their own pleasure. To-night she remained until theywere quiet and then returned to the gentlemen in the sitting room.
"At last," said Colonel Ritter, apparently as relieved as if he hadjust conquered an enemy. "You see, Max, my wife's time belongs firstof all to Joiner Andreas, and then to the children; if there is anyleft, it belongs to me."
"Oh, it's not quite so bad as that!" corrected Mrs. Ritter. "You likeAndreas just as well as the rest of us do, even though you won't admitit. That reminds me, he told me that he had received the money fromhis yearly profit and wanted your advice about investing it."
"Yes, it is a fact," said the colonel, "that I never saw a moretrustworthy or energetic man than he. I would trust him with all Ihave. He is by far the most reliable and wide-awake man in ourparish."
"Now you know what he thinks of him, Max," said Mrs. Ritter, laughing.
"Yes, to be sure," said the brother, "but you have said so much aboutthis man that I am curious to see him. Did I ever know him?"
"Why, Max! to think of yo
ur asking!" his sister admonished him. "Youused to go to school together and you knew him well. Don't youremember the two brothers who were in your class, the older one such agood-for-nothing boy? Not that he was stupid, but he didn't care tostudy, so the younger one was in the same class. The older one's namewas George, and he was rather striking in appearance because of hisheavy black hair. Whenever he saw us he would pelt us with stones orapples, and he invariably called us 'aristocrat-breed.'"
Uncle Max laughed. "Yes, I should say I do remember him distinctly,"he said. "That word I shall never forget--'aristocrat-breed.' I shouldlike to know how he got hold of it. I remember very well what a tyranthe was. I interfered once when I saw him unmercifully pommeling a muchsmaller boy, and he took his vengeance on me by calling me'aristocrat-breed' at least a dozen times. Now, of a sudden, Iremember the other one too. Can it be that little Andreas with theviolets has become your hero? Now I comprehend the intimacy, Marie."
"The violets!" broke in Colonel Ritter. "I have heard nothing aboutthe violets."
"Why, I see that scene before me as if it were but yesterday,"continued Max, "and I am going to tell you about it, Otto. You have nodoubt heard Marie tell about the teacher we had in those days, whobelieved that the bad should be whipped out of children and the goodwhipped into them. Consequently he was much of the time engaged inpunishing us for one or both purposes. At one time he wasadministering this treatment to the little Andreas, and he struck theboy such a heavy blow across the back that he screamed outright. Well,my little sister, who had just begun to go to school, and who didn'tunderstand the teacher's well-meant methods, immediately rose from herseat and marched down the aisle to the door.
"The teacher stopped to see what had happened, holding his rod poisedin the air long enough to ask, 'Where are you going?'
"Marie turned around and, with tears streaming down her face, answeredloud enough for the whole school to hear, 'I am going home to tell mypapa.'
"I shall never forget how the teacher left the astonished Andreas andrushed upon Marie. 'Just wait and I'll teach _you_,' he threatened. Heroughly took her by the arm and forced her back to her seat,muttering, 'I'll teach _you_!' That ended the scene, however, for hesent Andreas to his seat without further punishment, and nothing morewas said to Marie.
"Andreas never forgot this kind act in his behalf, and he alwaysbrought Marie a bunch of violets when he came to school; I used tonotice how they perfumed the schoolroom. Occasionally there would bea cluster of strawberries or something else equally appropriate. Howthe friendship has extended to the present state of affairs I shallhave to let my sister explain."
"My dear wife, I am eager to have this brought up to date," remarkedthe colonel.
Mrs. Ritter laughed with the others and began: "The strawberries andviolets were given as Max said, but you have forgotten how soonAndreas left school after I entered. He went to the city to learn thejoiner's trade. I didn't lose track of him, however, for he often camehome. When Otto and I were married and bought this place, he came toconsult us about his own purchase of some property. The owner of theplace wanted cash, and Andreas, who had lost his parents, hadn't themoney. Otto lent him the sum he needed and has never regretted it."
"I should say not," broke in the colonel. "He paid for that long ago,and since that time has laid by a good sum of his own. He brings hismoney to me, and I invest it for him. His interest is adding to hiscapital, and he could now afford to build a much better house and livewith more comforts. It is a shame that he is all alone in the world."
"Hasn't he a wife? And where is George?" asked Max.
"Andreas lives all alone," answered the sister. "I think his historyis too sad for him ever to take a wife. George led a wild life aroundhere until Andreas refused to help him out of any more scrapes, andnow he has disappeared, for he couldn't pay his debts. People wererelieved to have him out of the neighborhood, but everybody respectsAndreas."
"What do you mean by his sad experience, Marie?" inquired Max.
"I should like to hear about that, too," said the husband.
"Why, Otto!" said Mrs. Ritter, "I have told you about it at least adozen times."
"Is that so? It must please me," answered the husband, laughing.
"Can you recall, Max, the girl whom we were speaking of at the tableto-night when Andreas came? We could hear her father's loom from ourgarden, they lived so near us. I told you the girl was very pretty.She had a charming manner and her name was Aloise."
"Never in my life have I known anybody by that name," asserted Max.
"I know why you say so," corrected his sister. "We never called herthat, and I am sure that you never did. We called her Wisi, much toour dear mother's disgust. You often went over to get her when wewanted to have some music, because she could sing so well."
"Oh, yes, I remember Wisi," said Max, "and I used to like the girl,too; but I don't believe that I ever knew of her being named anythingelse."
"I know that you used to know, Max," persisted Mrs. Ritter. "Mother sooften deplored the fact that we would not use the pretty name Aloise,and she never liked what we did call her."
"What became of Wisi?" inquired Max.
"Well," continued Mrs. Ritter, "Wisi and I were much together, for wewere in the same class and went from grade to grade at the same time.Andreas, through all those years, was her stanchest friend, and shewillingly accepted his attentions, often finding his friendship ofgreat advantage to herself.
"For one thing we were supposed to bring certain examples worked outon our slates when we came to school in the morning, but Wisi's slatewas usually blank. She was always light-hearted and merry, and shewould put her slate on her desk in a very unconcerned way and go outto play; when she returned, the slate was filled with neatly copiedexamples.
"Once it was brought before the school that some one had broken awindowpane, and again, that some one had shaken the teacher's fruittrees, and I remember that we all knew it was Wisi's fault; butAndreas took the blame upon himself and the punishment also. The restof us accepted it as a matter of course, for we all liked Wisi andwere used to having her escape.
"How it happened that the quietest, most earnest boy in school shouldcare especially about the most mischievous girl used to puzzle us, andI often wondered if Wisi were not indifferent to Andreas's interest inher. I asked mamma about it one day, and she said, 'I am afraid thatAloise is somewhat vain, and that she may live to see the bad resultsof her carelessness.' After that I worried about her myself.
"Some time later we had Bible studies together, preparatory to ourconfirmation, and she took such an interest in them that we began tothink she had given up her mischievous ways. She regularly came tosing with us Sunday evenings, and we liked to have her with us, forher cheerfulness infected us all. By this time she was a very prettyyoung woman, not rugged, but perfectly well; and she far surpassed theother girls of the neighborhood in grace, beauty, and accomplishments.Andreas was still at his trade, but he managed to come home nearlyevery Sunday. We could all see how much he cared for Wisi. He was theonly one that ever called her Wiseli, and he always accented the nameso softly that we thought it was very pretty.
"One Sunday night, when Wisi and I were not quite eighteen years ofage, she came in radiantly happy and told us that she was soon to bemarried. The man to whom she was betrothed had but recently come tothe village and was employed at the factory. I was so astonished andgrieved over the news that I could say nothing. Mother, however, askedher to take some time to consider the matter thoroughly, because itwas too important a step to take hurriedly. Mother told her that shewas very young and that she must not forget that there was some oneelse who had loved her for years, of whose intentions she could haveno doubt; then, too, her father needed her, and she ought to help hima few years more.
"Wisi cried because mother talked so earnestly, but she said that herfather had given his consent and it was all arranged that they were tobe married in two weeks. 'Then,' said mother, 'we must make the bestof it an
d try to be happy. I will play our favorite melody and we willsing the words.
"Commit thou all thy ways And all that grieves thy heart To Him whose endless days Can strength and grace impart.
"He gives to wind and wave The power to be still; For thee He'll surely save A place to work His will."'
"When Wisi left us that night she was as cheerful as ever, but I couldnot help feeling that her happiest days were over. Then, too, I fearedfor Andreas, but he said nothing, although he has never been the samesince. For several years he seemed to be far from well, but he did notgive up work."
"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Max; "and he never married?"
"Why, no, Max!" said Mrs. Ritter, impatiently, "how could he when heis faithfulness itself?"
"How was I to know that he possessed that virtue also, dear sister? Heseems to have them all. How did Wisi get along? I should be sorry tohear that her marriage proved a failure."
"I can plainly see that your sympathy is with her," replied Mrs.Ritter. "To you, Andreas's fate does not matter so much."
"Not so, sister, but those pretty eyes of hers ought never to havebeen spoiled with tears. Isn't she happy?"
"I fear not, Max. I have seen but little of her since her marriage.There was a coarseness in her husband's nature that repelled me, andhe was always cross to her. Six children were born to them, and allbut one, a frail little girl, have died. She is called Wiseli, and isabout the size of our Miezchen, although she is three years older. Sheis the little girl whom Otto defended this evening. Her mother hassuffered so much during all these years, that there is little hope ofher ever being well again."
"That is too bad," said Max; "we must try to do something for her.Don't you think that we might help her?"
"I am afraid that it is too late. Wisi was much too delicate for allthe work and worry that fell to her lot."
"What is the husband doing?"
"I forgot to tell you, Max. About six months ago he had an arm and aleg badly crushed in the factory, and he died a few weeks after beinginjured. Since then Wisi has been living alone with her little girl."
"So that is her story," mused Max. "And one child is all that she hasleft. What would become of her in case Wisi died? It is more likely,though, that the mother will get well, and that Andreas will yet behappy."
"No, I am sure it is too late for that," asserted Mrs. Ritter."Although Wisi repented long ago, the wrong could not be undone, andshe has suffered in silence. But we are forgetting that we must havesome sleep to-night."
Colonel Ritter had fallen asleep in his chair. It was past midnight.Max roguishly went behind his sleeping brother and shook his shouldersso roughly that the colonel sprang from his chair in alarm. Maxlaughed and patted his shoulder by way of atonement, sayingapologetically, "I only intended to give you a gentle warning that mysister says we must take to our beds."
A few moments later the house stood dark and quiet in the moonlight.
At the foot of the hill was another house where it would soon be quietalso; from a tiny window a small lamp still sent a faint glimmer intothe night.