A few days later Marie Falkenhein came through the garden gate to Kläre Güntz's house.
"Kläre," she said, "I am going into the town to inquire after Frau von Stuckardt. Would you like me to call in at the chemist's and tell him he is to send you the sugar-of-milk for the baby?"
Frau Kläre took stock of the young girl, and shook her finger at her laughingly.
"Mariechen! Mariechen!" she said. "I never would have believed you could become such an accomplished hypocrite, my child."
Marie turned crimson.
"Yes, yes," continued Kläre. "Because you have heard me call vanity a vice, you were ashamed to show off your new dress and hat to me. But you hadn't quite the heart to pass by your old friend's house. Isn't that the way of it?"
The young girl nodded, her face scarlet.
Kläre stroked her cheek caressingly, and went on: "You silly little goose! But really, you know, when one's as pretty as you are, a little vanity is excusable. And now tell me, where in the world did you get these things?"
"Oh, Kläre," replied the girl, "not here, of course. Frau von Gropphusen went with me and helped me to choose them. I can tell you, Kläre, she does understand such things."
The young woman stood in front of her friend and looked her over from head to foot. It would have been impossible to find any costume which lent itself more happily to Marie's dainty appearance than this of some light-grey soft silken material, trimmed with white, and with a little hat to match, the shape of which softly emphasised the delicate beauty of the young face.