The storekeeper hastened away with the piece of wood, and brought back the answer with an embarrassed air:
"Mr. Hahn had borrowed the boat in the night."
"If there are forebodings," cried Hummel, angrily, "this was one. This nocturnal prowling of your father I forbid under all circumstances," he continued, to the Doctor.
"I know nothing of it," rejoined the Doctor. "If my father has done this, I beg of you, even if you do not value the roses, to be pleased with the good intention."
"I protest against every rose that may be strewed on my path," cried Hummel. "First we had poisoned dumplings, with evil intentions; and now rose leaves, with good ones. Your father should think of something else than such jokes. The ground and soil are mine, and I intend to prevent roosters from scratching here."
He charged wildly into the roses, seized hold of stems and branches, tore them out of the ground, and threw them into a confused heap.
The Doctor turned gloomily away, but Laura hastened to her father and looked angrily into his hard face.
"What you have rooted up," she exclaimed, "I will replace with my own hands."
She ran to a corner of the garden, brought some pots, knelt down on the ground, and pressed the stems with the little balls of earth into them as eagerly as her father had rooted them up.
"I will take care of them," she called out, to the Doctor; "tell your dear father that not all in our house undervalue his friendship."