“But,” said Madame Rosenberg, “this marriage was a fortunate exception, for,” she added, with sundry winks and blinks towards Hildegarde, “for marriages against the consent of relations seldom or never turn out well. Let me give you some more salad, and then, as you are to leave so early to-morrow, I may as well pack up your things to-night.”
“By no means,” cried Hamilton, “I must beg of you to send for Hans.”
“Oh, young Hans is much too awkward, and the old man is gone to bed hours ago. I have been thinking, if you intend to keep Hans, that I will begin to teach him to be handy, and instead of Hildegarde’s arranging your linen, he must learn to do it from this time forward.”
“That would be very kind of you,” said Hamilton.
“For the sewing on of buttons, and all that,” continued Madame Rosenberg, delighted at the idea of giving instruction, “he must of course still apply to you, Hildegarde.”
Hildegarde, who had been leaning back on her chair, diligently puckering and plaiting her pocket handkerchief, looked up for a moment, and replied:
“Yes, mamma.”
“I shall send for Hans, and give him his first lessons to-night,” said Madame Rosenberg, moving towards the door.
“Wait a moment and I can accompany you,” cried Hamilton, quickly. “I shall be ready directly.”
“Don’t hurry yourself,” said Madame Rosenberg; “you will have time enough before Hans comes up; and I must first see if Peppy has fallen asleep, and if he is properly covered. Don’t hurry yourself.”