"Every animal has its ways," replied Gabriel. "I have no talent for developing into a bear."
"It can be learnt," said Mr. Hummel, benignantly. He raised his eye-brows, and made a sly grimace. "Something is in progress in the garden over there; they are probably speculating again on some new arrival, to which I, in due time, shall take upon myself, under all circumstances, to give the right name"--he lowered his voice--; "something anonymous has been unpacked, and brought out into the garden." With a feeling of indignation at his own caution, he continued: "Believe me, Gabriel, the world is growing cowardly from this over-production of children; and people are so crowded that freedom ceases to exist; life is now slavery from the cradle to the grave. Here I stand on my own ground, and if I choose to dig a hole on this spot to the centre of the earth, no man can prevent me; and yet, on my own property, we cannot express an outspoken opinion; and why? Because it might be heard, and displease the ears of strangers. To such a point have we come; a man is the slave of his neighbors. Now, only think, I have but one neighbor opposite; on the other side I am protected by the water and the factory, yet I must swallow the truth, as I dare not speak out beyond my boundary. He who is surrounded on all sides by neighbors must lead a lamentable life; he cannot even cut off his head in his own garden without the whole neighborhood raising a cry because the sight is not pleasing to them." He pointed with his thumb to the neighboring house, and continued, confidentially: "We are reconciled now; the women would not rest until we were. I assure you they lacked the true spirit to carry on a quarrel over there; the affair became tedious and so I gave in."
"Yet it is well that all is settled," said Gabriel. "If the fathers quarrel, how can the children meet on good terms?"
"Why shouldn't they make faces at each other?" returned Mr. Hummel, crossly. "I can't bear this everlasting bowing and scraping."
"Every one knows that," replied Gabriel. "But if Miss Laura meets the Doctor in our house, which often happens, she surely cannot growl at him."
"So they meet often!" repeated Hummel, thoughtfully. "There again you have an instance of this overcrowding; they can't get out of each other's way. Well! I can trust to my daughter, Gabriel; she has my disposition."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," replied Gabriel laughing.
"I assure you she is quite of my mind," affirmed Hummel, decidedly. "But, as to this cessation of hostilities, you need not rejoice so much at it; for, depend upon it, it cannot last long between our houses. When the ice has thawed, and the garden amusements begin, there will be trouble again. It has always been so and I do not see why it should not continue so, in spite of reconciliations, and in spite of your new mistress, for whom I nevertheless have great respect."
The conversation, which had been carried on in the garden, was interrupted by a dark, solemn-looking man, who presented a large letter in a tinted envelope. He introduced himself to Mr. Hummel, and brought him an invitation for his absent daughter to undertake the office of godmother to a baby that had just been born to limit the space in the world still more. To this invitation no objection could be made; the young mother, the wife of a lawyer, was Laura's friend, and the daughter of her godmother. It was an old connection of the family, and Hummel, as father and citizen, duly accepted the invitation.
"For whom is the other letter you have in your hand?" he asked of the messenger.