"Pray get the tea, Johanna," said the young lady, interrupting the stream of words.
"The milk was sour, too, ma'am, and it is so cool too. Ah, you ought to see the milk-cellar! Everything is going to ruin--it would really be better if you would only agree that Miss Adelaide should come here and let me go to the master."
"You will stay here," replied Gertrude, bending her eyes on her book.
"The master looks so pale," proceeded the chattering woman. "Mr. Baumhagen was telling him in the garden-hall today that Wolff is dying, and he struck his hand on the table till all the dishes rattled and said, 'Everything goes against me in this matter!'"
Gertrude looked up. The color came back into her pale cheek, and she drew a long breath.
"Dying?" she asked.
"Yes. I heard Mr. Baumhagen trying to soothe him--saying it was all for the best and he hoped everything might be comfortably settled now."
"What was my uncle doing there?" inquired Gertrude.
Johanna was embarrassed.
"I don't know, Mrs. Linden, but if I am not mistaken, he was trying to persuade Mr. Linden to--that--ah, ma'am!"--Johanna came and stood before the table which she had set so daintily.