“The house is very respectable,” continued Major Hockin, who always seemed to know what I was thinking of, and now in his quick manner ran up the steps; “just look, the scraper is clean. You never see that, or at least not often, except with respectable people, Erema.” “Pray what would my scraper be? and who is Erema?” cried a strong, clear voice, as the chain of the door was set free, and a stout, tall woman with a flush in her cheeks confronted us. “I never knew more than one Erema--Good mercy!” My eyes met hers, and she turned as pale as death, and fell back into a lobby chair. She knew me by my likeness to my father, falling on the memories started by my name; and strong as she was, the surprise overcame her, at the sound of which up rushed the small Herr Strouss. “Vhat are you doing dere, all of you? vhat have you enterprised with my frau? Explain, Vilhelmina, or I call de policemans, vhat I should say de peelers.” “Stop!” cried the Major, and he stopped at once, not for the word, which would have had no power, although I knew nothing about it then, but because he had received a sign which assured him that here was a brother Mason. In a moment the infuriated husband vanished into the rational and docile brother. “Ladies and gentlemans, valk in, if you please,” he said, to my great astonishment; “Vilhelmina and my good self make you velcome to our poor house. Vilhelmina, arise and say so.” “Go to the back kitchen, Hans,” replied Wilhelmina, whose name was “Betsy,” “and don't come out until I tell you. You will find work to do there, and remember to pump up. I wish to hear things that you are not to hear, mind you. Shut yourself in, and if you soap the door to deceive me, I shall know it.” “Vere goot, vere goot,” said the philosophical German; “I never meddle with nothing, Vilhelmina, no more than vhat I do for de money and de house.” Betsy, however, was not quite so sure of that. With no more ceremony she locked him in, and then came back to us, who could not make things out. “My husband is the bravest of the brave,” she told us, while she put down his key on the table; “and a nobler man never lived; I am sure of that. But every one of them foreigners--excuse me, Sir, you are an Englishman?” “I am,” replied the Major, pulling up his little whiskers; “I am so, madam, and nothing you can say will in any way hurt my feelings. I am above nationalities.” “Just so, Sir. Then you will feel with me when I say that they foreigners is dreadful. Oh, the day that I ever married one of 'em--but there, I ought to be ashamed of myself, and my lord's daughter facing me.” “Do you know me?” I asked, with hot color in my face, and my eyes, I dare say, glistening. “Are you sure that you know me? And then please to tell me how.”