"Father, really——" cried Hildegarde. She blushed crimson and was beside herself with indignation. "It is not enough that you think and talk about nothing else but my possible engagement, but you must also tell strangers about it in order to get credit."
The mother laid her hand gently on her shoulder. "But, Hilda, you must not take it in that way; we only spoke about it to intimate friends."
The major also tried to calm her, but Hildegarde would not be pacified. "I cannot go out in the town any more, you have made it impossible for me here. Now I understand the veiled allusions of mamma's friends yesterday when they inquired so sympathetically after my health. I shall go away to-morrow; I will not stay here a day longer."
"This is certainly a delightful birthday celebration," snarled the major, and he struck the table a violent blow with his fist.
"Hildegarde will be all right again directly," said Fritz, "she's a sensible girl; naturally these money complications have upset her. This afternoon she will be her old self again. Now I must go and arrange matters with the bailiff or the champagne will not taste good."
But although by the afternoon the seals had been removed from the furniture the champagne somehow or other was not successful. A dark shadow lay over the house, and remained there, and when at last the major went to bed he had to confess that he had never spent so sad a birthday as the day when he reached the age of sixty.
CHAPTER VIII
The Wages of Sin
Little Willberg had shot himself!