"Von Bähr, dear pastor."
"Antoinette Rehnhjelm."
"Née, madame?"
"Rehnhjelm, pastor."
"Ah! true! You married your cousin, husband dead, no children. But to continue: Presents...."
There was a general—almost general—consternation.
"But won't you sign, too, pastor?" asked Mrs. Homan.
"I dislike boasting, ladies, but if it's your wish! Here goes!"
"Nathanael Skore."
"Your health, pastor! Won't you drink a glass of punch before we begin?" asked the hostess with a charming smile, which died on her lips when she looked at the pastor's glass. It was empty; she quickly filled it.