"No, mamma, surely not worse," interposed Otto. "You see, Uncle Max, it is like this: if she is a good little girl I call her Miezchen; this she is so seldom, however, that I usually call her Miezi. When she is angry and looks like a little ruffled hen, I call her Miez."
"And when Otto is angry, what does he look like?" inquired Uncle Max, addressing Miezi.
Before she could think of a comparison, Otto answered, "Like a man!"
They all laughed so heartily that Miezi stirred her soup violently in her confusion.
Uncle Max tactfully changed the subject: "It has been over a year since I have seen you children, and I wish you would tell me what you have been doing while I have been away."
Naturally the latest news was related first, and, in their eagerness to have Uncle Max know everything, both children wished to speak at once. Among other things they told of the fun they had in school, and that led Otto to tell about his experience with Chappi and Wiseli; how she had been driven into the snowdrift and rudely treated, and how, though she had no sled, she finally had had two rides on his.
"That was right, Otto," said his father; "always take the part of the weak and the oppressed, and honor the meaning of your name. Who is this little girl you speak of?"
"I doubt if you know her," answered Mrs. Ritter, "but Max knew the mother very well. You remember the frail linen weaver that lived near us? She was his daughter and only child, and she used to come often to the parsonage. She was a pretty girl with large brown eyes, and she could sing beautifully. Do you remember whom I mean?"
Just at this moment Trina brought in a message: "Joiner Andreas begs permission to speak with Mrs. Ritter, if it will not disturb her."