"What a light footfall she has!" said Fritz,
listening.

But Josef only grunted. He declined to say
a word having his daughter for its subject. He
never would speak of her to Fritz. In truth,
he knew that if once led into that topic, the
young man would openly avow his love, and
ask him to sanction his wooing. It would
douhtless have been the right course for old
Kester to speak frankly to Fritz Rosenheim, or
at least, if he would not do that, to have kept
his daughter out of the young fellow's way.
But the right course is seldom quite an easy
one; and Josef Kester never voluntarily faced
a difficulty, mental, moral, or physical. So he
grunted, as aforesaid, and was in a mighty
hurry to see the lights out, and get to his bed.
Fritz shouldered the little leather-covered case
to carry it to his sleeping-room.

"The big trunks," said he, "would not be
easy to walk off with in the night, but I shall
feel better pleased to have this small box by my
bedside."

"Pooh!" said Kester, "what whim has
bitten you? Did you ever hear of anything
being walked off, as you call it, hereabouts?"

"No; but it's as well to be on the safe side.
If the things were my own, I wouldn't be afraid
to leave them out there in the shed. Good
night."

"I suppose you'll be starting early, Fritz?"

"As early as I can. The daylight doesn't
last long, now."

"Good night, lad."

And the two separated, each to his rest.

CHAPTER VII.

THE following morning was dull and cloudy,
and there was a feeling in the air, and a look in
the sky, that betokened a fall of snow before
long. Kätchen dressed herself almost in the
dark, and groped her way down-stairs to the
kitchen. There was no fire in the stove, and
no preparation for breakfast. "That lazy
hulking Liese," said Kätchen to herself; "to
think of her not being down yet! I'll rouse
her to some tune, in a minute." But, even as
she spoke, she perceived that the house door
had been unbolted, and was partly open.
"Why, she's gone out, then!" exclaimed the
girl, in a startled tone. " Where can she be?"
She was advancing towards the door, when it
was opened from without, and Liese entered,
followed by Fritz. "Where have you been at
this hour?" asked Kätchen, in the imperious way
habitual to her.

"Don't you see? To get wood. There
wasn't enough to fill the stove."

Liese spoke sullenly, and threw down a great
log with a bang on the stone floor. She was
panting, and her shoes were covered with dust.

"You've been running yourself out of breath,
I declare," said Kätchen, gazing at her in
astonishment. "You don't usually do things in
such a hurry. However, it's as well that you
are in a humour to make haste this morning.
Be quick with breakfast."

Fritz, meanwhile, had been busied in putting
on a new lash to his whip, glancing furtively
at Kätchen whenever he thought she did not
observe him. "I am early, too, this morning,"
said he, coming forward when Liese had lit
the fire, and was making a great clatter of
preparation in the scullery. "I went to have a
look at the piebald. He's all right."

"Oh!" said Kätchen, languidly. "Yes; he's
all right."

Kätchen was absorbed in measuring out the
coffee. Fritz came close to her, and she felt
his arm enfold her waist. "Won't you give a
pleasant word to a fellow?" said he, piteously.

"How dare you do that?" exclaimed
Kätchen, turning to transfix him with a haughty
stare which would have done credit to a
duchess.

Fritz dropped his arm as if Kätchen's little
waist had been red hot. "Dare!" said he, and
the blood rushed up into his brown face. "I
did not mean to offend you, Mam'sell Katarina,
but it seems that we can't get on together at
all. When I am away from you, I long for
nothing so much as the moment when I shall
see you again; and yet when we do meet, somehow
it's all wretched. It does seem hard."

Now, Kätchen had not meant to be taken
quite au pied de la lettre when she asked Fritz
how he dared to put his arm round her. It
was simply a piece of coquetry. She had been
feeling quite lofty with a sense of the sacrifice
she had made of Herr Ebner on Fritz's behalf.
She had persuaded herself that she had given
up wealth and station all for his sake, and had
meant to dazzle him, by-and-by, with a glimpse
of her magnanimous behaviour. And now,
here he was beginning by being aggrieved and
hardly treated. Fritz was always so provokingly
in earnest, and though he could not be
aware that Kätchen had refused Ebner's offer,
she was as perversely angry with him as though
he had already known all about it.

"Indeed," said she, coldly. "Then if it's
all wretched, as you say, I think it a pity that
we do meet at all."

"Oh, don't say that, Kätchen! Why should
it be all wretched? It need not be, if you
would onlyâ??â??"

"Oh, thank you. Of course it's my fault.
I am sorry that I happen to be so disagreeable
in your eyes, but really I don't know how to
help that."

"Disagreeable in my eyes! But you know
that's just nonsense, Kätchen. I've told you
how much I love you often enough to make you
believe me, if telling would do it; but I think
â??I do think it shouldn't be quite all on one
side. If you care for me, I have a right to say
that much, Katarina."

"All on one side! Thou dear Heaven!
Ungrateful, insensible creature! What do
you endure for my sake in comparison with the
sacrifices I make on your account? The
greater fool I!"

"You make sacrifices for me, Kätchen? I
know I'm not your equal in many things, but