"What! let you make it?" asked Gretchen. "That would be wise indeed. Suppose you spoiled it, what should we do then?" And she took out a basket containing eggs. "We have just eggs enough for one omelet, and no more.
'Entränn' er jetzo kraftlos meinen Händen,
Ich habe keinen zweiten zu versenden,'
as Schiller makes Tell say when he had no second string to his bow."
"Indeed, Gretchen," pleaded Ernestine, "I will not spoil it. I should be so glad to recover your good opinion,--only let me try."
"Dearest, darling Ernestine," said Gretchen, "trust me, we cannot indulge in experiments any longer. While we had a little money, it did not make much difference if we had a spoiled dish now and then, but now we must save every groschen.--there is no help for it." And she began to beat the eggs, while Ernestine put more wood in the stove.
"Never mind that!" cried Gretchen. "If you want to do something, dress the salad. But make haste, the omelet will be ready in an instant."
Ernestine made all the haste she could,--she was so anxious to do something.
Suddenly Gretchen, who was busy at the fire, heard a low exclamation, and, turning, she saw Ernestine standing with a face of despair before, the salad-bowl, with the oil-bottle in her hand. "What have you done?" cried Gretchen, hastening to her side. "Not got hold of the wrong bottle, I hope?" But one sniff at the salad was enough. "Bless me! she has put petroleum into it! Now we must sit in the dark this evening,--our week's supply is exhausted. Such nice salad and such good petroleum, each so valuable by itself and so worthless mixed! Now, dear Ernestine, you cannot ask me to permit you to stay in the kitchen a moment longer. This is one of your unlucky days." And, with a comical air of pathos, she untied and took off her sister's apron. "Herewith I solemnly depose you from your responsible office. You have to-day shown yourself entirely unworthy to wear this ornament. Now go into the next room, and wait quietly until I bring the omelet in to you." And she opened the door and led Ernestine from the room.
When she went to her, shortly afterwards, she found her sitting sewing, her eyes red with weeping. "Darling," she said to her, "I do believe you are crying about that trifle! I must be a little strict with you, you see, or you will never learn to economize and take care of things. Ernestine dear, you are not vexed with me for scolding you? I was only in jest."
"How could I be vexed with you? I am crying because I am of no earthly use in the world! If it were not for you, you angel, what would become of me? There is no child eight years old more clumsy and awkward than I. Who would bear with me as you do? Do you think I am not humiliated by these thoughts? For these last two months, ever since my money was exhausted, you have supported me by your hard work at that school, and I could do nothing for you but prepare our frugal noonday meal while you are away, and now I cannot even do that! It is shameful! Have I made the most complicated chemical combinations, and yet can I not make decent soup? Have I overcome the greatest difficulties, and yet are these simple tasks beyond me? This cannot go on. I promise you I will take myself in hand, and you shall not have to fast again when you come from school."