“One moment!” said the apothecary, taking possession of the judge’s button-hole while the latter was angrily seeking to escape; “there seems to be company at your house.”
“Why?” asked Schwarz, trembling with ire—he had fetched his sister-in-law from the station twelve hours ago, long after nightfall, and had hoped that the fact of her presence was as yet unknown.
“Well, I saw your maid buy three little tarts at the pastry-cook’s this morning,” said the apothecary innocently; “she generally takes only two—so I thought, perhaps——”
The judge darted a glance of utter contempt at his companion.
“Why did you not take it for granted I might desire to eat two tarts to-day?” he said with alarming politeness, and then walked into the house full of wrath.
Weighty decisions were ripening within him, and the result of his deliberation became apparent as he sat down to lunch with his ladies, and suddenly delivered himself of the astonishing words: “We’ll start for Berlin this evening!”
Helen dropped her fork and gazed at her husband with wide-open eyes. “This evening?”
“When I say this evening I don’t mean next year,” growled the paterfamilias. “That’s just like a woman! Here you’ve always been talking and begging to go and travel—to go and leave this miserable little place for awhile, and now when I offer to go, you raise objections!”
“My dear Karl!” began his wife soothingly, “I was only taken by surprise at your sudden resolve. What can have occurred to bring it about?”
“I’m tired of this small town gossip, and more especially of the apothecary!” said Karl, energetically. “Confound it—I can’t blow my nose but that Lebermann sends to inquire if I have a cold! I want to go and see what life is like in a large town, where I can go about incognito. I can just manage to get away over Sunday. We’ll take three round-trip tickets and go to Berlin this evening. Go and pack your things!”