The parson was not an angel by any means, and was the last man in the world to think himself one, but still his conduct was so upright, and his face so expressive of love and good-will, that anyone could see in a moment that he was a good man, and that his was a serious, thoughtful mode of life, and yet--when his wife had taken off his gown and bands--there was a bright sparkle in his eye that showed he did not at all disdain innocent mirth. He was a man who could give good counsel in worldly matters as well as in spiritual, and he was always ready to stretch out a helping hand to those in need of it. He recognised Hawermann the moment he saw him, and welcomed him heartily: "How d'ye do, dear old friend, what an age it is since I saw you last. How are you getting on?--Good morning, Mr. Bräsig."--Just as Bräsig was about to explain the reason of his and Hawermann's visit, Mrs. Behrens, who had begun to take off her husband's clerical garments, called out: "Don't speak, Mr. Hawermann,--Bräsig be quiet, leave it all to me.--I'll tell you all about it," she continued, turning to her husband, "for the story is a sad one--yes, Mr. Hawermann, terribly sad--and so it will be better for me to speak. Come," and she carried her pastor off to his study, saying in apology for doing so as she left the room: "I am the nearest to him, you know." When Mr. Behrens returned to the parlour with his wife, he went straight up to Hawermann, and taking his hand, said: "Yes, dear Hawermann, yes, we'll do it. We'll do all that lies in our power with very great pleasure. We have had no experience in the management of children, but we will learn.--Won't we, Regina?" He spoke lightly, for he saw how deeply Hawermann felt his kindness, and therefore wished to set him at ease.--"Reverend Sir," he exclaimed at last, "you did much for me in the old days, but this ....."--Little Mrs. Behrens seized her duster, her unfailing recourse in great joy or sorrow, and rubbed now this, and now that article of furniture vigorously, indeed there is no saying whether she might not have dried Hawermann's tears with it, had he not turned away.--She then went to the door and called to Frederika: "Here, Rika, just run down to the weaver's wife, and ask her to send me her cradle, for," she added, addressing Bräsig, "she doesn't require it."--And Bräsig answered gravely: "But Mrs. Behrens, the child isn't quite a baby."--So the clergyman's wife went to the door again, and called to the servant: "Rika, Rika, not the cradle. Ask her to lend me a crib instead, and then go to the parish-clerk's daughter, and see if she can come this afternoon--Good gracious! I forgot it was Sunday!--But if thine ass falls into a pit, and so on--yes, ask her if she will come and help me to stuff a couple of little matrasses.--It isn't a bit heathenish of me to do this, Bräsig, for it's a work of necessity, as much so as when you have to save the Count's wheat on a Sunday afternoon.--And, my dear Mr.