"But he came," said Herr Dremmel, for whose enlightenment she was picturing the week she had had.
And her father would not speak to her at all, would not look at her.
"Old sheep," said Herr Dremmel good-naturedly.
And Judith had seemed entirely horrified, and used to blush if she tried to speak to her.
"Foolish turkey," said Herr Dremmel placidly.
But now somehow it did seem as if she needn't have been quite so miserable, and might have had more faith.
"What ought the Little One to have had more of?" asked Herr Dremmel; for his thoughts had not much time to spare, and he profitably employed them while she talked in working out the probable results of, say, the treatment of three acres of sugar-beet with sulphate of potash, sulphate of ammonia, and nitrate of soda respectively, all of them receiving 400 lbs. of basic slag as well—would not sulphate of ammonia be more effective as a nitrogenous manure than nitrate of soda in the case of sugar-beets, whose roots grew smaller and nearer the surface than mangels? "That is what little women should constantly have more of," he said, breaking away from sugar-beets to a zestful embracing; for on this occasion they were under the pear-tree, a place she seldom went to because she had not yet acquired, in spite of his assurances that she undoubtedly would, any real enthusiasm for embracings, keeping by preference to the only immune place in the garden, which was the middle of the lawn.
"I wonder," she thought while it was being done, "if this will really grow on me...."
And, while it was still being done, "Mother must have been kissed, too, and she's still alive...."
And presently, while it was still being done, "But mother isn't much alive—there's the sofa—perhaps that's why...."