Fires of St. John Part 3

She needs no one to watch over her! She is well able to take care of herself; but we must spare her----

Mrs. Brauer.

But, Henry, just now--three days before the wedding--who could think of sparing one's self?

Brauer.

Well, you know--h'm----

Mrs. Brauer.

Henry, you know how I love the girl; but, good gracious, she is not our own dear, sweet one----

Gertrude.

Oh, she is more than that, mama dear.

Mrs. Brauer.

You are entirely too modest, my darling.

Gertrude.

Well, just imagine, mama dear, she was going to be married--and I remained at home----

Mrs. Brauer.

Then we would retain our sunshine, our consolation, our---- [_Looking at breakfast table with a questioning expression_.] But, children, I can't understand----

Gertrude.

What, mama dear?

Mrs. Brauer.

Gracious! Everything is so--so-- [_Topsy-turvy indicated by action_.]

If she is not going to sleep, she may as well come down here----

Gertrude.

[_Laughingly caressing her mama_.] There, you see, mama, dear, not even a single meal can you eat without her.

[George von Harten _enters_.]

Brauer.

Well, at last you have aroused yourself; you----

George.

[_Interrupts him, tapping his hand_.] There, softly, softly, dear uncle; don't begin scolding so early in the morning.

Brauer.

Don't you think it's pretty near time to call me father, my boy?

George.

Not until after the wedding, dear uncle.--Good-morning, auntie.

[_Kissing her hand_.] Well, little one? [_Kissing her_.]

Gertrude.

[_Leans on him lovingly_.] My George. [_Laughs suddenly_.] Oh, just look! he is simply covered with hay!

George.

Then you may make yourself useful by brushing me off.

Brauer.

The hayloft seems to be your favorite sleeping-place lately.

George.

Sleep? Heavens! who could sleep in this weather? I roam about. Lord knows where, over meadows and fields. Such St. John days!!! It's enough to drive one mad. The days never seem to end. Late last night I was sitting in front of my window. Said I to myself: "No sleep for me to-night, until that cursed nightingale runs out of melody"--when suddenly a meadow-lark announces the break of day--and there, it's morning. To the left, the twilight: to the right, the dawn, peacefully together. From glow to glow a new day arises. Children, I tell you, it was beautiful. Give me a cup of coffee.

Brauer.

But, tell me! Are you going to remain here now?

George.

Why, certainly, until after the wedding.

Brauer.

But the propriety of such a thing----

Gertrude.

[_Imploringly_.] Oh, papa dear----

George.

Its immaterial to me. Under no circ.u.mstances do I desire to offend your sense of propriety; but then I will stay down at the inn, as the nearest place.

Brauer.