The factory clock struck five as Kitty, accompanied by Doctor Bruck, came out into the court-yard. It had grown colder, and the antique sun-dial in the gable of the mill, which in the warm spring sunshine of the earlier afternoon had clearly marked the time, looked worn and indistinct again.
A clear peal from the bell at the gate summoned Franz from the mill, and his wife followed him, stretching her neck to see all she could of the newly-returned young mistress. Kitty begged them to pay every attention to the invalid during her absence, which they duly promised to do. Just then something rustled through the air, and a beautiful dove fell maimed upon the pavement of the yard.
"Drat 'em! will they never stop that rogues' work?" cried Franz, with an oath, as he sprang down the steps and picked up the bird. Its wing was broken. "Just see here, wife," he said to her; "it's none of ours,—I thought so. They're a God-forsaken pack of scoundrels over there. They shoot the poor lady's pet doves under her very nose. Ah, if I were the Herr Councillor!" And he shook his fist.
"Who is the poor lady, Franz? And who shoots her doves?" asked Kitty, in surprise.
"He means Henriette," said Doctor Bruck.
"And they shoot them from the factory," cried Franz, angrily.
"What! my brother's workmen?"
"Yes, yes, Fräulein, those men who eat his bread. 'Tis a sin and a shame! There's the mischief, doctor! You see now what rogues they are. You want to waste kindness on them; and a pretty business you'd make of it. What will you get for your kindness? Small thanks, and such work as this. No, no; down with them!—that's what I think,—or there'll be no living here."
"Are there strikes here too, then?" Kitty asked the doctor, whose face wore so grave and beautiful a smile that she could not help looking at him.
"No, that is not the matter here," he said, shaking his head. His calm voice was in striking contrast with Franz's angry gabble. "Several of the best workmen, having saved a little money, asked of Moritz that when the estate was divided he would allow them to buy a small piece of waste land near the factory,—of small value in itself. They wanted to build houses upon it to rent to the poorer workmen, who can hardly support their families in town, where rents are so high. The councillor encouraged their hopes, which he could do the more readily since the strip of land still belonged to his park——"