"Quite sure," responded Mr. Joles.
"But there must be," pleaded the old man. He was desperate now. "Did she get my note?"
"My advice is for you to go home and wait till Miss Stanton signifies that your presence is required. That's the best thing to do—really." Mr. Joles volunteered this advice, which contained little comfort, but Von Barwig's lip quivered and he nodded his head thankfully. Even the advice to go away and stay away contained more hope than the cold stolid stone-wall indifference he had encountered day after day from Mr. Joles.
"Thank you, Mr. Joles! I will, I will," and Von Barwig plodded his way wearily back to Houston Street. For one whole week he did not go near the Stanton house. He contented himself with hoping. He would sit in his little room and rush out every time he heard the letter-carrier's whistle, but no letter came. One day, when he could no longer restrain himself, he carefully brushed his clothes and prepared to walk uptown again.
"She must be in, she must be in; and she will see me. This time I know she will see me; I am sure of it; sure of it," he kept repeating to himself. "She can't be so cruel!"
He found himself looking into a florist's window and started with a cry of joy.
"That's a good omen, a very good omen! You're all right, Barwig; she will see you."
He had recognised the florist in Union Square that he had bought the violets he presented her with on the day he first called upon her. He went in and bought a bunch of violets.
"We begin all over again," he said to himself. "We forget all this weary waiting, all this stupid fear. Now, Miss Hélène, we are prepared for our lesson," he said, as he took the box of flowers and walked uptown with renewed hope. His heart beat very rapidly as he walked up the steps.
"Courage, Barwig," he said to himself; "the tide turns I You will see!"