"'St!--'St,"--sounded behind him, and as he turned on the slippery sidewalk he saw Uncle Henry coming down the hotel steps. He had evidently been dining, and his jovial countenance displayed an astonishing mixture of sadness and physical comfort.
"I have had my dinner, Linden," he began, putting his arm through the young man's. "I was very much cast down by this affair of this morning. You don't misunderstand me I hope? Eh? I am not one of those who lose their appetites when misfortune comes. I approve of our ancestors who had funeral feasts. I assure you, Linden, that wasn't such a bad idea as we of to-day fancy it. Give all honor to the dead, but the living must have their rights, and to them belong eating and drinking, which keep soul and body together. Ta, ta! A funeral always upsets me. The poor little fellow! I was fond of him all the same, you may be sure. I am sure you have not dined yet. Women never eat under such circumstances, every one knows."
"I was just going to look for you," replied Linden. "My future mother-in-law wishes to see you. We--are going to be married in three weeks."
The little man in the fur coat stopped, and looked at Linden as if he did not believe his ears.
"How? What? She has changed her mind very suddenly--did Gertrude improve the opportunity of her softened mood, or--?"
"Gertrude would never do that--no, Mrs. Baumhagen wishes to travel for some time with her eldest daughter, and--"
"Oh, ta, ta! And Gertrude is not to go?"
"On the contrary--but she would not."
"Aha! Now it dawns upon me, something has happened. Her serene Highness has been trying--now, I understand--travelling, new scenes, new people--out of sight, out of mind. Ha! ha! she is a born diplomatist. Well, I will come, only let us take the longest way; the fresh air does me good. I am glad though, heartily glad--in three weeks it is to be then?"
The gentlemen walked on together in silence through the snow. It was wonderfully quiet in the streets in spite of the traffic of business. Men and carriages seemed to sweep over the white snow. The air was mild, with a slight touch of spring, and Frank Linden thought of his home and of the small room next his own, which would not long remain unoccupied.