Either Arthur saw the look or it occurred to him all at once that the old friend and playfellow of his childish years was there before him; he stopped suddenly.
"Oh, it is you, Hartmann! How do you do?"
He stretched out his hand in his lazy, indifferent way, and seemed rather surprised that it was not immediately grasped, but for years such a favour had not been granted, and the Manager hesitated before accepting it; when he did so at last, it was shily and with precaution, as though fearing to hurt the delicate white hand by the touch of his rough hard palm.
"Thank you, I am pretty well so far, Herr Arthur----I beg pardon, Herr Berkow, I mean."
"Keep to the Arthur," said the young man, quietly. "You are more used to it, and I would rather hear it from you than the other name. So you are all right, Hartmann?"
"Well yes, thank God, Herr Arthur. I have as much as I want. There is a bit of trouble and care in every house, and I am a little worried just now about my children, but it can't be helped."
"About your children? I thought you had only one son."
"Quite right, my Ulric. But I have a niece in my house, too, Martha Ewers."
"And she gives you trouble?"
"God forbid!" said the Manager, warmly. "The girl is as good as can be, but I did think the two might have made a pair, she and Ulric"----