"Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labor, both by sea and land; To watch the night in storms, the day in cold
While thou liest warm at home secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience,--
Too little payment for so great a debt."
"You see, Arthur, I have my Shakespeare at my tongue's end."
Mrs. Baumhagen suddenly broke up the coffee party. She seemed heated, for she was fanning herself with her handkerchief.
"Gertrude, you must show us the house," she exclaimed. "Come, Jenny, we will leave the gentlemen to their cigars."
"Gladly, mamma," said the young girl, easily.
She led her mother and sister through the kitchen and cellar, through the chambers, and through the whole house. In the dining-room a pretty young woman in a spotless white apron was engaged in clearing off the table. Gertrude gave her some orders in a low tone as she passed.
"That is Johanna, whose husband was killed," said Jenny.
"Yes," replied her sister, "I have engaged her as housekeeper. She is very capable, and I like to have a familiar face about me."
"With the child?" asked the mother, scornfully.
"Of course," replied the young wife. "She lives in the other wing. It is a pleasure to see how the little fellow improves in the country air."