followed him—you understand - not that I was curious, but to see whether or not I had guessed rightly. . . . Sure enough, it was as I expected. . . . But the age of his charmer! Well, there is no accounting for tastes, and he will have a pleasant place with a garden and within walking distance to his work.... If any of you are interested and are passing up Fell Street you will see his future home. Not new, by any means, but it faces the south and sits close to the ground, and the window curtains are white and freshly starched." At this he stopped for breath, and I pretended to be busy drawing another batch of loaves from the oven. "On Fell Street?" cried another. "A cottage with fuchsias climbing the porch rail? . . . You cannot mean the house where that German woman lives?" "A German!" said my Greek friend. "Well, this is news. Yes, it must be the very place. Then you know her?" "Know her? Well, I should not like to say that. But you should hear what the neighbors say! . . . It seems last year she had a whole barrel of sugar . . . and everybody else with only two pounds a month! Somebody in the block suspected. Why, I don't know, but the noses of women soon smell out any advantage to another. And so they talked the thing over and my wife's sister, who is a clever woman, said, 'Let me ring her front-door bell and pretend to be short of sweetening for a pudding, and see what happens.' She went according to her plan and rang the bell and asked for a cup of sweetening. And the old woman, being thick-headed, like all of her kind, and flattered to think that a neighbor would call on her at such a time, brought her into the kitchen and uncovered the barrel of sugar without further ado." "Well, well!" cried my Greek friend, rubbing his hands together as he always does when he is pleased at the turn his evil gossip has taken. "And to fancy that it is with such a person our little Bohemian has fallen in love! And what happened, pray? Did your wife's sister report the matter to the proper authorities?" "Ah, she did better than that. She said in a flash to this old humbug, 'If you do not give me all the sugar in your possession, I shall go and inform against you.' you.' And the other had no choice, although she wrung her hands and sniffled a lot. . . . Then my wife's sister, after taking a good share herself, divided the rest among the neighbors. But that was no more than right, seeing that it was her cleverness that had tricked the old dame." At this last I stood up straight and I said, slowly: "What you say may all be true, but I should like first of all to hear her story. . . . As for myself, I would be ashamed to lay a snare for another by asking a favor. Surely there are tricks enough without that!" When I had finished, the man who had been boasting about the cleverness of his sister-in-law came so close to me that I felt his hot breath on my cheek. "Josef Vitek, do you mean to insult me?" he asked, between his closed teeth. "No," I answered, as quietly as I could. "You know that is not my way. We are none of us perfect, but when we do a mean thing it is not necessary to boast of it." He drew back from me with a sneer. "It is well that the war is over-otherwise there might be those who would be glad to know what sort of woman a patriot of Bohemia has for his companion." "And old enough to be his mother, at that!" put in my Greek friend, laughing until his little eyes were hidden. I turned so that my glance fell upon him. "Yes," I said, “you are right. She is old enough to be my mother. Perhaps if you had thought twice upon that fact you would have said less." And at that every one was silent, and I went about my final tasks in peace, although my heart was heavy. For my upon the mantelpiece. And I said at once: "My good woman, you have a wellkept room here. It must take all your time to manage things in such a good fashion." "What else have I to do?" she asked, quickly. "My man is dead, and my friends have forgotten me. One must have a door of some kind to shut in the face of sorrow." "Why do you not take a lodger?" I asked. "Surely the presence of another would be a pleasant thing for one as And that evening I said to my land- lonely as you are." lady: "I have heard strange things about this German friend of yours who once made Christmas cakes for you. There are some who say that she has only a roof over her head and very little else. Indeed, if we are to believe everything, she has scarcely enough in the house to eat." "Well, that is in God's hands," she answered, reaching into a corner for her broom. "Still," I began again, "there are others who accuse her of shameful things. They say that only last year a neighbor's wife discovered that she was hiding sugar. Now which of these stories do you suppose is true?" "When I knew her she was a just woman," my landlady replied, "but now anything is possible," and she went on with her sweeping. But the next day, toward evening, a little before my usual time, I left my lodgings and went again to the little cottage with fuchsias trained against the porch railing, and I pulled at the bell three times. Presently the door flew open. "There," cried the little German woman, smiling, "I knew it was you by your ring! Come into the parlor and sit down.' Now in the twilight I saw that this parlor of hers was a very pleasant place, with its neatly pinned bits of lace upon each chair, and flowers that never fade "For years I made my living in that fashion,' she said, shaking her head sadly. "But finally, for one reason or another, I found my house deserted. So I went down to a shop on Fillmore Street and I bought a sign neatly printed and I put it in the window. Many people came, and looked, and promised to see me again. When they did not come back I wondered. But one day I saw a neighbor talking to a woman who had just left my house, and then I knew that there was no further hope, so I took the sign down." 'And was this neighbor the one who made you share your barrel of sugar with the others?" I asked, without warning. At this she grew very white, her hands trembled, and she began to cry. "I might have known that no good could come of letting a stranger into my house," she said; "but you had a kind face, and I thought, 'Perhaps, after all, chance has sent me a friend!"" "That will depend on what you have to tell me," I answered. "You cannot blame me for keeping an open ear to what is said in a loud voice everywhere. But you have a tongue in your head also, and I am ready and listening.' "How much do you know?" she asked. "Well, I have heard about the woman who begged a cup of sugar for a pudding, and the barrel she found in your kitchen. In war-time that is sufficient seed for any slander." "So far you have heard rightly, but how I came by that sugar and what I treasured it for has not been told you. That is not surprising, since I have not bothered to tell so foolish a thing to any one. The truth is, I did not once get more than my share at the grocery where I trade. But every month I went and bought what was allotted me. And instead of sweetening my coffee or sprinkling fruit in its season, I emptied the bag into this barrel, which I kept ready in a far corner of my kitchen. Then one day a woman came, asking with a sly smile on her lips for a favor. Well, you have heard how things went, and perhaps more has been added to give a strong flavor to the stew." "No, you are wrong. This dish of gossip was served plain. They who offered it were wise enough to let me provide my own seasoning. "What, then, does your fancy make of it?" I looked at her for some moments in silence, while her lips twitched and her hands moved in her lap, and I felt very happy at the thought that I had not been tricked by her at the thought that she was a worthy old woman who, but for the fact that she had first opened her eyes upon another country, might have been my landlady, waiting each evening for me as I go to my work, and putting fresh fruit and sweet cakes on the table beside my bed. "What does my fancy make of it?" I repeated, finally. "I am a poor hand at stories, but if I had my way I should keep that barrel of sugar in the far corner of your kitchen for but one purpose. would fashion my tale very much as you have. Every month a few more pounds added until at last the barrel would be full. But the woman ringing your bell for a favor-I would not have her in my story. Instead, when the barrel was filled to overflowing, and the days had grown shorter, I would have little square cakes fashioned, little. square cakes flavored with anise. And on Christmas morning the neighbors' On Saturday morning, because the Friday-night's baking is greater than any in the week, we have coffee and a bit of cake before leaving the shop. And, if the truth were known, this is the pleasantest hour of all. At such times we sing or tell stories or drink in silence, as the mood takes us. When Saturday morning came again I sat quietly, saying not a word, for, as you have guessed, I was not so friendly with my companions as usual. To be sure, they had said no more since my Greek friend had taunted me, but they still smiled and nudged one another at my passing. Or they made way for me with great flourishes, as if I were already a bridegroom. Well, on this morning every one had his say, telling what came quickest to his tongue, and, finally, finding that I neither laughed at their jests nor applauded their efforts, one of the number said: "See how solemn our comrade Vitek remains! His face is as long as a wet week. He must have a sad tale to tell us!" And my Greek friend, winking at the rest of the company, answered: "The lovesick are always so! . . . Come, my lad, do your share, and tell us a tale!" And every one cried: "Yes-a tale!" And, seeing that I was not in the mood, to worry me further they dragged me to my feet and stood me upon the table, while they mocked me. At first I set my lips tightly together, |