``I want to tell you,'' said Otto quietly, ``that as the result of your going away so suddenly and not coming back a wicked lying story is going round about Hilda. She does not know it yet, but it won't be long before something will be said--maybe publicly. And it will break her heart.''
``I can't discuss her with you,'' said Mr. Feuerstein.
``Doubtless you mean well. I'm obliged to you for coming. I'll see.'' He rose.
``Is that all?'' said Otto.
``What more can I say?''
``But what are you going to DO?''
``I don't see how I can prevent a lot of ignorant people from gossiping.''
``Then you're not going straight down there? You're not going to do what a man'd do if he had the decency of a dog?''
``You are insulting! But because I believe you mean well, I shall tell you that it is impossible for me to go for several days at least. As soon as I honorably can, I shall come and the scandal will vanish like smoke.''
Otto let him go. ``I mustn't thrash him, and I can't compel him to be a man.'' He returned to the German Theater; he must learn all he could about this Feuerstein.
``Did you see him?'' asked the ticket-seller.
``Yes, but I didn't get anything.''
Otto looked so down that the ticket-seller was moved to pity, to generosity.
``Well, I'll give you a tip. Keep after him; keep your eye on him. He's got a rich father-in-law.''
Otto leaned heavily on the sill of the little window.
``Father-in-law?'' A sickening suspicion peered into his mind.
``He was full the other night and he told one of our people he was married to a rich man's daughter.''
``Was the name Brauner?'' asked Otto.
``He didn't name any names. But--let me think--they say it's a daughter of a brewer, away up town. Yes, Ganser--I think that was the name.''
``Oh!'' Otto's face brightened. ``Where is Ganser's place?'' he asked.
``I don't know--look in the directory. But the tip is to wait a few days. He hasn't got hold of any of the old man's money yet--there's some hitch. There'll be plenty for all when it comes, so you needn't fret.''
Otto went to the brewery, but Peter had gone home. Otto went on to the house and Peter came down to the brilliant parlor, where the battle of hostile shades and colors was raging with undiminished fury. In answer to Peter's look of inquiry, he said: ``I came about your son-in-law, Mr. Feuerstein.''
``Who are you? Who told you?'' asked Peter, wilting into a chair.
``They told me at the theater.''
Peter gave a sort of groan. ``It's out!'' he cried, throwing up his thick, short arms. ``Everybody knows!''
Shrewd Otto saw the opening. ``I don't think so,'' he replied, ``at least not yet. He has a bad reputation--I see you know that already. But it's nothing to what he will have when it comes out that he's been trying to marry a young lady down town since he married your daughter.''
``But it mustn't come out!'' exclaimed Ganser. ``I won't have it. This scandal has disgraced me enough.''
``That's what I came to see you about,'' said Otto. ``The young lady and her friends don't know about his marriage. It isn't necessary that any of them should know, except her. But she must be put on her guard. He might induce her to run away with him.''
``Rindsvieh!'' muttered Ganser, his hair and whiskers bristling.
``Dreck!''
``I want to ask you, as a man and a father, to see that this young lady is warned. She'll be anxious enough to keep quiet.
If you do, there won't be any scandal--at least not from there.''
``I'll go down and warn her. Where is she? I'll speak to her father.''
``And have him make a row? No, there's only one way. Send your daughter to her.''
``But you don't know my daughter. She's a born--'' Just in time Ganser remembered that he was talking to a stranger and talking about his daughter. ``She wouldn't do it right,'' he finished.
``She can go in and see the young lady alone and come out without speaking to anybody else. I'll promise you there'll be no risk.''
Ganser thought it over and decided to take Otto's advice. They discussed Mr. Feuerstein for several minutes, and when Otto left, Ganser followed him part of the way down the stoop, shaking hands with him. It was a profound pleasure to the brewer to be able to speak his mind on the subject of his son-in-law to an intelligent, appreciative person. He talked nothing else to his wife and Lena, but he had the feeling that he might as well talk aloud to himself.
After supper--the Gansers still had supper in the evening, their fashionable progress in that direction having reached only the stage at which dinner is called luncheon--he put Lena into the carriage and they drove to Avenue A. On the way he told her exactly what to say and do. He stayed in the carriage. ``Be quick,'' he said, ``and no foolishness!''
Lena, swelling and rustling with finery and homelier than before her troubles, little though they disturbed her, marched into the shop and up to the end counter, where Hilda was standing.
``You are Miss Hilda Brauner?'' she said. ``I want to see you alone.''
