The carriage drove up and the Doctor got into it to fetch the godmother.
"Our doors are so near together," said Hummel, who was standing at the window, "that he will only just have time to creep out from the other side."
After some difficulty in turning, the carriage arrived at the steps of Mr. Hummel. The servant opened the door, but before the Doctor could jump down Susan appeared on the steps and called out:
"Do not take the trouble of entering, the young lady will come immediately."
Laura swept down the steps, all in white as if veiled in a snowcloud; and how pretty she looked! Her cheeks were indeed paler than usual, and her brows were gloomily knit, but the sad expression gave an enchanting dignity to her countenance. She avoided looking at the Doctor, only slightly moving her head at his greeting, and when he offered his hand to assist her, she passed by him and seated herself in her place as if he were not there. He had some difficulty in finding room next to her; she nodded, ignoring him, to Mr. Hummel, who was standing on the steps looking far more cheerful than his child. The horses trotted slowly on; Laura looked neither to the right nor to the left. "It is the first time she officiates as godmother," thought the Doctor, "that causes this solemn mood; or perhaps she is repentant because of the colored handkerchief!" He looked at her hands; the gloves that he sent were not to be seen. "Have I offended against etiquette?" he thought again, "or were they too large for her little hands?"
"He is silent," she thought, "that is his bad conscience; he is thinking of the cat's claws, and has not a word of thanks for my pocket-handkerchief; I have been sadly mistaken in him." This consideration made her so sorrowful that tears again rose to her eyes; but she pressed her lips tightly together, squeezed the thumb of her right hand, and silently counted from one up to ten, an old recipe she had formerly used for restraining vehement feeling.
"Things cannot go on so," thought the Doctor, "I must speak to her."
"You have not been able to use the gloves that T ventured to send you," he began modestly; "I fear I have made a bad selection."
This was too much; Laura turned her head sharply toward the Doctor. For a moment he saw two flashing eyes, and heard the contemptuous words: "I am no cat." Again her lips were compressed, and she clenched her hand convulsively.
Fritz reflected with astonishment whether gloves that wrinkle could ever have been considered a characteristic sign of our domestic animal. He thought the remark incongruous. "What a pity she is so whimsical!" After a time he began again: "I fear you will feel the draught; shall I close the window?"