"God forbid!" cried the good woman; "we have had enough of them."
"He lives in an unsettled district, with bad men around, and the police regulations seem to be quite inadequate."
"There are fearful dens of robbers there," chimed in the excited cousin.
"And I fear, too, that his earnings are but small. At first I sent him a few trifles to which he is accustomed, such as tea and cigars, but in his last letter he told me he was going to be economical, and to leave them off. He must have very little money," continued Baumann, shaking his head; "not more than two hundred dollars."
"He is in want," cried the cousin; "actually he is. Poor Wohlfart! When you next write, we will send him a chest of the Pekoe tea, and a couple of our hams."
"Hams to the country! I fancy there are more swine there than any thing else."
"But they don't belong to him," cried she. "Listen to me, Mr. Baumann; it is your Christian duty to write to him at once, and tell him to return. The business wants him. I have the best reasons to know how much my cousin Schröter is silently feeling the loss of his best coadjutors, and how much he would rejoice to see Wohlfart back again."
This was a pious fraud of the good lady's.
"It does not appear so to me," interpolated Baumann.
"It was only to-day that my cousin Sabine said to her brother how dear Wohlfart had been to us all, and how great a loss he was. If he has duties yonder, he has duties here too, and these are the oldest."