Ganser was seated, looking stupidly at a new bonnet as she turned it slowly round on one of her cushion-like hands. Feuerstein went to her and kissed her on the hang of her cheek. ``Mother!'' he said in a deep, moving voice.
Mrs. Ganser blinked and looked helplessly at Lena.
``I'm married, ma,'' explained Lena.
``It's Mr. Feuerstein.'' And she gave her silly laugh.
Mrs. Ganser grew slowly pale. ``Your father,'' she at last succeeded in articulating. ``Ach!'' She lifted her arm, thick as a piano leg, and resumed the study of her new bonnet.
``Won't you welcome me, mother?'' asked Feuerstein, his tone and attitude dignified appeal.
Mrs. Ganser shook her huge head vaguely. ``See Peter,'' was all she said.
They went down stairs and waited, Lena silent, Feuerstein pacing the room and rehearsing, now aloud, now to himself, the scene he would enact with his father-in-law. Peter was in a frightful humor that evening. His only boy, who spent his mornings in sleep, his afternoons in speeding horses and his evenings in carousal, had come down upon him for ten thousand dollars to settle a gambling debt. Peter was willing that his son should be a gentleman and should conduct himself like one. But he had worked too hard for his money not to wince as a plain man at what he endured and even courted as a seeker after position for the house of Ganser. He had hoped to be free to vent his ill-humor at home. He was therefore irritated by the discovery that an outsider was there to check him. As he came in he gave Feuerstein a look which said plainly:
``And who are you, and how long are you going to intrude yourself?''
But Feuerstein, absorbed in the role he had so carefully thought out, did not note his unconscious father-in-law's face. He extended both his hands and advanced grandly upon fat, round Peter. ``My father!'' he exclaimed in his classic German.
``Forgive my unseemly haste in plucking without your permission the beautiful flower I found within reach.''
Peter stepped back and gave a hoarse grunt of astonishment. His red face became redder as he glared, first at Feuerstein, then at Lena. ``What lunatic is this you've got here, daughter?'' he demanded.
``My father!'' repeated Feuerstein, drawing Lena to him.
Ganser's mouth opened and shut slowly several times and his whiskers bristled. ``Is this fellow telling the truth?'' he asked Lena in a tone that made her shiver and shrink away from her husband.
She began to cry. ``He made me do it, pa,'' she whined.
``I--I--''
``Go to your mother,'' shouted Ganser, pointing his pudgy finger tremulously toward the door. ``Move!''
Lena, drying her eyes with her sleeve, fled. Feuerstein became a sickly white. When she had disappeared, Ganser looked at him with cruel little eyes that sparkled. Feuerstein quailed. It was full half a minute before Ganser spoke. Then he went up to Feuerstein, stood on tiptoe and, waving his arms frantically above his head, yelled into his face ``Rindsvieh!''-- as contemptuous an insult as one German can fling at another.
``She is my lawful wife,'' said Feuerstein with an attempt at his pose.
``Get the house aus--quick!--aus!-- gleich!--Lump!--I call the police!''
``I demand my wife!'' exclaimed Feuerstein.
Ganser ran to the front door and opened it. ``Out!'' he shrieked. ``If you don't, I have you taken in when the police come the block down. This is my house! Rindsvieh!''
Feuerstein caught up his soft hat from the hall table and hurried out. As he passed, Ganser tried to kick him but failed ludicrously because his short, thick leg would not reach. At the bottom of the steps Feuerstein turned and waved his fists wildly.
Ganser waved his fists at Feuerstein and, shaking his head so violently that his hanging cheeks flapped back and forth, bellowed:
``Rindsvieh! Dreck!''
Then he rushed in and slammed the door.
