"Kviet, Mr. Richlin', kviet. Mr. Richlin', I pelief Reisen kittin petter. If he don't gittin' better, how come he'ss every day a little more kvieter, and sit' still and don't say nutting to nobody?" "Mrs. Reisen, my wife is asking me to send for her"--Richling gave the folded letter a little shake as he held it by one corner--"to come down here and live again." "Now, Mr. Richlin'?" "Yes." "Well, I will shwear!" She dropped into a seat. "Right in de bekinning o' summer time! Vell, vell, vell! And you told me Mrs. Richling is a sentsible voman! Vell, I don't belief dat I efer see a young voman w'at aint de pickest kind o' fool apowt her hussbandt. Vell, vell!--And she comin' down heah 'n' choost kittin' all your money shpent, 'n' den her mudter kittin' vorse 'n' she got 'o go pack akin!" "Why, Mrs. Reisen," exclaimed Richling, warmly. "you speak as if you didn't want her to come." He contrived to smile as he finished. "Vell,--of--course! _You_ don't vant her to come, do you?" Richling forced a laugh. "Seems to me 'twould be natural if I did, Mrs. Reisen. Didn't the preacher say, when we were married, 'Let no man put asunder'?" "Oh, now, Mr. Richlin', dere aindt nopotty a-koin' to put you under!--'less-n it's your vife. Vot she want to come down for? Don't I takin' koot care you?" There was a tear in her eye as she went out. An hour or so later the little rector dropped in. "Richling, I came to see if I did any damage the last time I was here. My own words worried me." "You were afraid," responded Richling, "that I would understand you to recommend me to send for my wife." "Yes." "I didn't understand you so." "Well, my mind's relieved." "Mine isn't," said Richling. He laid down his pen and gathered his fingers around one knee. "Why shouldn't I send for her?" "You will, some day." "But I mean now." The clergyman shook his head pleasantly. "I don't think that's what you mean." "Well, let that pass. I know what I do mean. I mean to get out of this business. I've lived long enough with these savages." A wave of his hand indicated the whole _personnel_ of the bread business. "I would try not to mind their savageness, Richling," said the little preacher, slowly. "The best of us are only savages hid under a harness. If we're not, we've somehow made a loss." Richling looked at him with amused astonishment, but he persisted. "I'm in earnest! We've had something refined out of us that we shouldn't have parted with. Now, there's Mrs. Reisen. I like her. She's a good woman. If the savage can stand you, why can't you stand the savage?" "Yes, true enough. Yet--well, I must get out of this, anyway." The little man clapped him on the shoulder. "_Climb_ out. See here, you Milwaukee man,"--he pushed Richling playfully,--"what are _you_ doing with these Southern notions of ours about the 'yoke of menial service,' anyhow?" "I was not born in Milwaukee," said Richling.