HOW THE VICAR CAME AROUND.
THE Frau Obersteuerrätin was “auntie” to the whole world; and indeed she deserved the name, for she was a motherly friend, counsellor, and helper to all who came within her domain; she was the best and most charitable of women, judging mildly of the weaknesses of others so long as her own little weaknesses were respected. She over-looked the eccentricities of her clerical brother, which he committed in a state of absent-mindedness, and she did not raise any objections to Susie’s marvellous naïveté, though often enough it caused her bitter dilemmas.
It was a warm May day on which the Vicar entered the room with his usual greeting: “Good morning, Auntie—good morning, Susie.”
Auntie nodded pleasantly. Susie, who was sitting by her on the sofa, knitting a white stocking, arose, dropped a little familiar curtsey, and said: “Votre servante, Uncle.”
“But, Heaven preserve us, what is the matter with you to-day, Vicar?” said Aunt Rosmarin.
“How so?” queried the Vicar, putting his hands in all of his pockets in a vain search for a handkerchief with which to wipe the perspiration from his brow.
“It’s very likely you have your wig in your pocket,” said Auntie, “for your handkerchief is on your head.”
“On my head,” exclaimed the Vicar in surprise, and putting his hand there he found it. “I shouldn’t be greatly surprised if you were right, Auntie; it’s a hot, hot day; the sun was burning, my back was burning; I came from town, so I took off my wig to cool my head, spread my handkerchief over the latter, and lay down in a corn-field.”
Again he began to search his pockets, while Susie made room for him on the sofa, and went out to get him a refreshing drink of water and raspberry syrup.
“What are you looking for, Vicar?” asked Auntie.