"Now please explain to me," burst out his friend, "where you picked up that fellow--that rat, I should say, who pushes himself into your society so impudently."
Frank Linden's dark eyes turned in astonishment to the angry countenance of the judge.
"Why, Richard, he was my uncle's right-hand man, his factotum, and lastly, he has something to say about my affairs, for unhappily, he holds a large mortgage on Niendorf."
"That does not justify him in the impertinent manner which he displays towards you," replied his friend.
"O my dear little Judge," said the young man in excuse, "he looks on me as a newcomer, an ignoramus in the sacred profession of farming. You--"
"And I consider him a shady character! And some day, my dear boy, you will say to me, 'Richard, God knows you were right about that man--the fellow is a rascal.'"
"Do you know," cried Frank Linden, between jest and earnest, "I wish I had left you quietly in your lodging in the Goethe-Platz. You will spoil everything here for me with your gloomy views. Come, we will take a turn through the garden; then, unfortunately, it will be time for you to go to the station, if you wish to catch the Express."
He took the arm of his grumbling friend and drew him with him along the winding path, on which already the withered leaves were lying.
"I am sure the fellow has a matrimonial agency somewhere," muttered the judge, grimly.
As they turned the corner of the neglected shrubbery, they saw an old woman slowly pacing up and down the edge of the little pond.