I threw down my knife and apple. 'Now what's the matter with the boy!' I exclaimed impatiently. 'Do I ever swear?'
'But if you did you would?'
'Swear what?'
'That a bit of jewelry would bring the complications about?'
'Oh--dense, dense, dense! Of course it would. You'd be surprised at the number and size of them. You can't be too careful. Give her a hymn-book.
Joey gave a loud whoop.
'Well, it's safe,' said I severely, 'and it appeals to parents.'
'You bet,' said Joey, screwing his face into a limitlessly audacious wink.
'I wish,' said I, very plaintively, 'that I knew exactly what it is I am to bet. You constantly tell me to do so, but never add the necessary directions.'
'Oh, I'm goin',' was Joey's irrelevant reply; and his head popped out as suddenly as it had popped in.
Or shall I tell you--I am anxious to make this letter long enough to please you--about Frau von Lindeberg, who spent two days elaborately cutting Joey, the two first days of his appearance in their house as lodger, persuaded, I suppose, that no one even remotely and by business connected with the Schmidts could be anything but undesirable, and how, meeting him in the passage, or on his way through the garden to us, the iciest stare was all she felt justified in giving him in return for his friendly grin, and how on the third day she suddenly melted, and stopped and spoke pleasantly to the poor solitary, commiserating with his situation as a stranger in a foreign country, and suggesting the alleviation to his loneliness of frequent visits to them? No one knows the first cause of this melting. I think she must have heard through her servant of the number and texture of those pink and blue silk handkerchiefs, of his amazing piles of new and costly shirts, of the obvious solidity of the silver on everything of his that has a back or a stopper or a handle or a knob. Anyhow on that third morning she came up and called on us, asking particularly for Papa. 'I particularly wished,'
she said to me, spreading herself out as she did the last time on the sofa, 'to see your good father on a matter of some importance.'
'I'll go and call him,' said I, concealing my conviction that though I might call he would not come.
And he would not. 'What, interrupt my work?' he cried. 'Is the woman mad?'
I went back and made excuses. They were very lame ones, and Frau von Lindeberg instantly brushed them aside. 'I will go to him,' she said, getting up. 'Your excellent father will not refuse me, I am sure.'
Papa was sitting in his slippers before the stove, doing nothing, so far as I could see, except very comfortably read the new book about Goethe.
'I am sorry to disturb so busy a man,' said Frau von Lindeberg, bearing down with smiles on this picture of peace.
Papa sprang up, and seeing there was no escape pretended to be quite pleased to see her. He offered her his chair, he prayed for indulgence toward his slippers, and sitting down facing her inquired in what way he could be of service.
'I want to know something about the young Englishman who occupies a room in our house,' said Frau von Lindeberg, without losing time. 'You understand that it is not only natural but incumbent on a parent to wish for information in regard to a person dwelling under the same roof.'
'I can give every information,' said Papa readily. 'His name in English is Collins. In German it is _Esel_.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg, taken aback.
'It is, madam,' said Papa, looking very pleasant, as became a man in his own house confronted by a female visitor. 'We have re-christened him.
And no array of words with which I am acquainted will express the exactness of his resemblance to that useful but unintelligent beast.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg, not yet recovered.
'The ass, madam, is conspicuous for the narrowness of its understanding.
So is Mr. Collins. The ass is exasperating to persons of normal brains.
So is Mr. Collins. The ass is lazy in regard to work, and obstinate. So is Mr. Collins. The ass is totally indifferent to study. So is Mr.
Collins. The ass has never heard of Goethe. Neither has Mr. Collins. The ass is useful to the poor. So is Mr. Collins. The ass, indeed, is the poor man's most precious possession. So, emphatically, is Mr. Collins.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg again.
'Is there anything more you wish to know?' Papa inquired politely, for she seemed unable immediately to go on.
She cleared her throat. 'In what way--in what way is he useful?' she asked.
'Madam, he pays.'
'Yes--of course, of course. You cannot--' she smiled--'be expected to teach him German for nothing.'
'Far from doing that I teach him German for a great deal.'
'Is he--do you know anything about his relations? You understand,' she added, 'that it is not altogether pleasant for a private family like ours to have a strange young man living under the same roof.'
'Understand?' cried Papa. 'I understand it so thoroughly that I most positively refused to have him under this one.'
'Ah--yes,' said Frau von Lindeberg, a Dammerlitz expression coming into her face. 'The cases are not--are not quite--pray tell me, who and what is his father?'
'A respectable man, madam, I should judge.'
'Respectable? And besides respectable?'
'Eminently worthy, I should say from his letters.'
'Ah yes. And--and anything else?'
'Honorable too, I fancy. Indeed, I have not a doubt.'
'Is he of any family?'
'He is of his own family, madam.'
'Ah yes. And did you--did you say he was well off?'
'He is apparently revoltingly rich.'
An electric shock seemed to make Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath.
'Oh really,' she then said evenly. 'Did he inherit his wealth?'
'Made it, madam. He is an ironmonger.'
Another electric shock made Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath again.
Then she again said, 'Oh really.'
There was a pause.
'England,' she said after a moment, 'is different from Germany.'