In the Quarter

``Herr Förster,'' interrupted Mrs Dene – ``Is the room ready for our friend who is coming this evening?''

``Your vriendt, he is from New York?''

``Ja, ja, Gnädige Frau!'' said the Forester, hastily.

``I haf a broader in New York. Blumenthal and Cohen, you know dem, yes?''

Mrs Dene and her daughter rose and went quietly out into the porch, while the Frau Förster, with cold, round gray eyes and a tight mouth, was whispering to her frowning spouse that it was none of his business, and why get himself into trouble? Besides, Mrs Dene's Herr Gemahl, meaning the absent colonel, would come back in a day or two; let him attend to Mr Blumenthal.

Outside, under the windows, were long benches set against the house with tables before them. One was crowded with students who had come from everywhere on the foot-tours dear to Germans.

Their long sticks, great bundles, tin botanizing boxes, and sketching tools lay in untidy heaps; their stone krugs were foaming with beer, and their mouths were full of black bread and cheese.

Underneath the other window was the Jaeger's table. There they sat, gossiping as usual with the Forester's helpers, a herdsman or two, some woodcutters on their way into or out from the forest, and a pair of smart revenue officers from the Tyrol border, close by.

Ruth said to the nearest Jaeger in passing:

``Herr Loisl, will you play for us?''

``But certainly, gracious Fraulein! Shall I bring my zither to the table under the beech tree?''

``Please do!''

Miss Dene was a great favorite with the big blond Jaegers.

``Ja freili! will I play for the gracious Fraulein!'' said Loisl, and cut slices with his hunting knife from a large white radish and ate them with black bread, shining good-humor from the tip of the black-cock feather on his old green felt hat to his bare, bronzed knees and his hobnailed shoes.

At the table under the beech trees were two more great fellows in gray and green. They rose promptly and were moving away; Mrs Dene begged them to remain, and they sat down again, diffidently, but with dignity.

``Herr Sepp,'' said Ruth, smiling a little mischievously, ``how is this? Herr Federl shot a stag of eight this morning, and I hear that yesterday you missed a Reh-bock!''

Sepp reddened, and laughed. ``Only wait, gracious Fraulein, next week it is my turn on the Red Peak.''

``Ach, ja! Sepp knows the springs where the deer drink,'' said Federl.

``And you never took us there!'' cried Ruth, reproachfully. ``I would give anything to see the deer come and drink at sundown.''

Sepp felt his good breeding under challenge. ``If the gracious Frau permits,'' with a gentlemanly bow to Mrs Dene, ``and the ladies care to come – but the way is hard – ''

``You couldn't go, dearest,'' murmured Ruth to her mother, ``but when papa comes back – ''

``Your father will be delighted to take you wherever there is a probability of breaking both your necks, my dear,'' said Mrs Dene.

``Griffin!'' said Ruth, giving her hand a loving little squeeze under the table.

Loisl came up with his zither and they all made way before him. Anna placed a small lantern on the table and the light fell on the handsome bearded Jaeger's face as he leaned lovingly above his instrument.

The incurable ``Sehnsucht'' of humanity found not its only expression in that great Symphony where ``all the mightier strings assembling, fell a trembling.'' Ruth heard it as she leaned back in the deep shade and listened to those silvery melodies and chords of wonderful purity, coaxed from the little zither by Loisl's strong, rough hand, with its tender touch. To all the airs he played her memory supplied the words. Sometimes a Sennerin was watching from the Alm for her lover's visit in the evening. Sometimes the hunter said farewell as he sprang down the mountainside. Once tears came into Ruth's eyes as the simple tune recalled how a maiden who died and went to Heaven told her lover at parting:

``When you come after me I shall know you by my ring which you will wear, and me you will know by your rose that rests on my heart.''

Loisl had stopped playing and was tuning a little, idly sounding chords of penetrating sweetness. There came a noise of jolting and jingling from the road below.

Mrs Dene spoke softly to Ruth. ``That is the Mail; it is time he was here.'' Ruth assented absently. She cared at that moment more for hearing a new folk-song than for the coming of her old playmate.

Rapid wheels approaching from the same direction overtook and passed the ``Post'' and stopped below. Mrs Dene rose, drawing Ruth with her. The three tall Jaegers rose too, touching their hats. Thanking them all, with a special compliment to Loisl, the ladies went and stood by some stone steps which lead from the road to the Först-haus, just as a young fellow, proceeding up them two at a time, arrived at the top, and taking Mrs Dene's hand began to kiss it affectionately.

``At last!'' she cried, ``and the very same boy! after four years! Ruth!'' Ruth gave one hand and Reginald Gethryn took two, releasing one the next moment to put his arm around the little old lady, and so he led them both into the house, more at home already than they were.

``Shall we begin to talk about how we are not one bit changed, only a little older, first, or about your supper?'' said Mrs Dene.

``Oh! supper, please!'' said Rex, of the sun-browned face and laughing eyes. Smiling Anna, standing by, understood, aided by a hint from Ruth of ``Schmarn und Reh-braten'' – and clattered away to fetch the never-changing venison and fried batter, with which, and Schicksalsee beer, the Frau Förster sustained her guests the year round, from ``Georgi'' to ``Michaeli'' and from ``Michaeli'' to ``Georgi,'' reasoning that what she liked was good enough for them. The shapeless cook was ladling out dumplings, which she called ``Nudel,'' into some soup for a Munich opera singer, who had just arrived by the stage. Anna confided to her that this was a ``feiner Herr,'' and must be served accordingly. The kind Herr Förster came up to greet his guest. Mrs Dene introduced him as Mr Gethryn, of New York. At this Mr Blumenthal bounced forward from a corner where he had been spying and shook hands hilariously. ``Vell! and how it goes!'' he cried. Rex saw Ruth's face as she turned away, and stepping to her side, he whispered, ``Friend of yours?'' The teasing tone woke a thousand memories of their boy and girl days, and Ruth's young lady reserve had changed to the frank camaraderie of former times when she shook her head at him, laughing, as he looked back at them from the stairs, up which he was following Grethi and his portmanteau to the room prepared for him.

Half an hour later Mrs Dene and her daughter were looking with approval at Rex and his hearty enjoyment of the Frau Förster's fare. The cook, on learning that this was a ``feiner Herr,'' had added trout to the regulation dishes; and although she was convinced that the only proper way to cook them was ``blau gesotten'' – meaning boiled to a livid bluish white – she had learned American tastes from the Denes and sent them in to Gethryn beautifully brown and crisp.

Rex turned one over critically. ``Good little fish. Who is the angler?''

``Oh! angler! They were caught with bait,'' said Ruth, wrinkling her nose.

Rex gave her a quick look. ``I suppose you have forgotten how to cast a fly.''

``No, I think not,'' she answered quietly.

Mrs Dene opened her mouth to speak, and then discreetly closed it again in silence, reflecting that whatever there was to come on that point would get itself said without any assistance from her.

``I had a look at the water as I came along,'' continued Rex. ``It seemed good casting.''

``I never see it but I think how nice it would be to whip,'' said Ruth.

``No! really? Not outgrown the rod and fly since you grew into ball dresses?''

``Try me and see.''

``Now, my dearest child! – ''

``Yes, my dearest mother! – ''

``Yes, dearest Mrs Dene! – ''

``Oh! nonsense! listen to me, you children. Ruth danced herself ill at Cannes; and she lost her color, and she had a little cough, and she has it still, and she is very easily tired – ''

``Only of not fishing and hunting, dearest, most perfect of mothers! You won't put up papa to forbid my going with him and Rex!''

``Your mother is incapable of such an action. How little you know her worth! She is only waiting to be assured that you are to have my greenheart, with a reel that spins fifty yards of silk. She shall have it, Mrs Dene.''

``Is it as good as the hornbeam?'' asked Ruth, smiling.

``The old hornbeam! do you remember that? I say, Ruth, you spoke of shooting. Really, can you still shoot?''