looked about her, and the thought of coming into such a life and such an
atmosphere was heavenly. Not that she fully understood his meaning,
however. He meant to be good and generous, and to give her fine things.
Naturally she was happy. She took up the package that she had come for,
not seeing or feeling the incongruity of her position, while he felt it as a direct reproof.
"She ought not to carry that," he thought. A great wave of sympathy swept over him. He took her cheeks between his hands, this time in a
superior and more generous way. "Never mind, little girl," he said. "You won't have to do this always. I'll see what I can do."
The outcome of this was simply a more sympathetic relationship between
them. He did not hesitate to ask her to sit beside him on the arm of his
chair the next time she came, and to question her intimately about the
family's condition and her own desires. Several times he noticed that she was evading his questions, particularly in regard to what her father was
doing. She was ashamed to own that he was sawing wood. Fearing lest
something more serious was impending, he decided to go out some day
and see for himself.
This he did when a convenient morning presented itself and his other
duties did not press upon him. It was three days before the great fight in the Legislature began which ended in his defeat. Nothing could be done
in these few remaining days. So he took his cane and strolled forth,
coming to the cottage in the course of a half hour, and knocked boldly at the door.
Mrs. Gerhardt opened it.
"Good-morning," he said, cheerily; then, seeing her hesitate he added,
"May I come in?"
The good mother, who was all but overcome by his astonishing presence,
wiped her hands furtively upon her much-mended apron, and, seeing that
he waited for a reply, said:
"Oh yes. Come right in."
She hurried forward, forgetting to close the door, and, offering him a
chair, asked him to be seated.
Brander, feeling sorry that he was the occasion of so much confusion,
said: "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Gerhardt. I was passing and thought I'd come in. How is your husband?"
"He's well, thank you," returned the mother. "He's out working to- day."
"Then he has found employment?"
"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Gerhardt, who hesitated, like Jennie to say what it was.
"The children are all well now, and in school I hope?"
"Yes," replied Mrs. Gerhardt. She had now unfastened her apron, and was nervously turning it in her lap.
"That's good, and where is Jennie!"
The latter, who had been ironing, had abandoned the board and had
concealed herself in the bedroom, where she was busy tidying herself in
the fear that her mother would not have the forethought to say that she
was out, and so let her have a chance for escape.
"She's here," returned the mother. "I'll call her."
"What did you tell him I was here for?" said Jennie, weakly.
"What could I do?" asked the mother.
Together they hesitated while the Senator surveyed the room. He felt
sorry to think that such deserving people must suffer so; he intended, in a vague way, to ameliorate their condition if possible.
"Good-morning," the Senator said to Jennie, when finally she came hesitatingly into the room. "How do you do to-day?"
Jennie came forward, extending her hand and blushing. She found herself
so much disturbed by this visit that she could hardly find tongue to
answer his questions.
"I thought," he said, "I'd come out and find where you live. This is a quite comfortable house. How many rooms have you?"
"Five," said Jennie. "You'll have to excuse the looks this morning. We've been ironing, and it's all upset."
"I know," said Brander, gently. "Don't you think I understand, Jennie?
You mustn't feel nervous about me."
She noticed the comforting, personal tone he always used with her when
she was at his room, and it helped to subdue her flustered senses.
"You mustn't think it anything if I come here occasionally, I intend to come. I want to meet your father."
"Oh," said Jennie, "he's out to-day."
While they were talking however, the honest wood-cutter was coming in
at the gate with his buck and saw. Brander saw him, and at once
recognised him by a slight resemblance to his daughter.
"There he is now, I believe," he said.
"Oh, is he?" said Jennie looking out.
Gerhardt, who was given to speculation these days, passed by the window
without looking up. He put his wooden buck down, and, hanging his saw
on a nail on the side of the house, came in.
"Mother," he called, in German, and, then not seeing her, he came to the door of the front room and looked in.
Brander arose and extended his hand. The knotted and weather- beaten
German came forward, and took it with a very questioning expression of
countenance.
"This is my father, Mr. Brander," said Jennie, all her diffidence dissolved by sympathy. "This is the gentleman from the hotel, papa, Mr. Brander."
"What's the name?" said the German, turning his head.
"Brander," said the Senator.
"Oh yes," he said, with a considerable German accent. "Since I had the fever I don't hear good. My wife, she spoke to me of you."
"Yes," said the Senator, "I thought I'd come out and make your acquaintance. You have quite a family."
"Yes," said the father, who was conscious of his very poor garments and anxious to get away. "I have six children—all young. She's the oldest girl."
Mrs. Gerhardt now came back, and Gerhardt, seeing his chance, said
hurriedly:
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go. I broke my saw, and so I had to stop work."
"Certainly," said Brander, graciously, realising now why Jennie had never wanted to explain. He half wished that she were courageous enough not
to conceal anything.
"Well, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said, when the mother was stiffly seated, "I want to tell you that you mustn't look on me as a stranger. Hereafter I
want you to keep me informed of how things are going with you. Jennie
won't always do it."
Jennie smiled quietly. Mrs. Gerhardt only rubbed her hands.
"Yes," she answered, humbly grateful.
They talked for a few minutes, and then the Senator rose. "Tell your husband," he said, "to come and see me next Monday at my office in the hotel. I want to do something for him."
"Thank you," faltered Mrs. Gerhardt.
"I'll not stay any longer now," he added. "Don't forget to have him come."
"Oh, he'll come," she returned.
Adjusting a glove on one hand, he extended the other to Jennie.
"Here is your finest treasure, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said. "I think I'll take her."
"Well, I don't know," said the mother, "whether I could spare her or not."
"Well," said the Senator, going toward the door, and giving Mrs. Gerhardt his hand, "good-morning."
He nodded and walked out, while a half-dozen neighbours, who had
observe his entrance, peeked from behind curtains and drawn blinds at the astonishing sight.
"Who can that be, anyhow?" was the general query.
"See what he gave me," said the innocent mother to her daughter the moment he had closed the door.
It was a ten-dollar bill. He had placed it softly in her hand as he said
good-bye.