"Yes," said Frau Doerr smiling to herself, "that is right, that is as it should be. But Lena, is his name really Botho? No one could have such a name; it is no sort of a Christian, name." "But it is, Frau Doerr," and Lena seemed as if she wanted to prove the fact that there were such names. But before she could succeed, Sultan barked and one could plainly hear the sound of some one entering from the corridor. The letter carrier came in and brought two orders for Doerr and a letter for Lena. "My Lord, Hahnke," exclaimed Frau Doerr to the man on whose brow the great drops stood, "you are dripping with sweat. Is it so frightfully hot? And only half-past nine. I see very well that there isn't much fun in being a letter carrier." And the good soul started to go and get a glass of fresh milk. But Hahnke refused with thanks. "I have no time, Frau Doerr. Some other day." And with these words he left at once. Meanwhile Lena had opened her letter. "Well, what does he say?" "He isn't coming to-day, but to-morrow. Oh, what a long time it is till to-morrow. It is a good thing that I have work; the more work the better. And this afternoon I'll come over to your garden and help you dig. But I don't want Doerr to be there." "The Lord forbid." And then they separated and Lena went into the front room to give her old mother the dish of asparagus from Frau Doerr. CHAPTER IV And now the next evening had come, the time for Baron Botho's promised visit. Lena was walking up and down in the front garden, but in the large front room Frau Nimptsch sat as usual by the hearth, while to-day again the whole Doerr family had grouped themselves around her. Frau Doerr was knitting with big wooden needles on a blue woolen jacket for her husband, and the work, as yet quite shapeless, lay on her lap like a great fleece. Near her, with his legs comfortably crossed, Doerr was smoking a clay pipe, while his son sat in a big grandfather's chair close to the window, leaning his red head against the "wing" of the chair. Every morning he was up by cockcrow, so to-day he had once more fallen asleep through weariness. There was but little talk, and so nothing was to be heard but the clicking of the needles and the chattering of the squirrel, which from time to time came out of his box and gazed curiously about. The only light came from the fire on the hearth and the afterglow of the sunset. Frau Doerr sat so that she could look along the garden path and in spite of the twilight she could see who was coming along the road, past the hedge. "Ah, there he comes," said she. "Now, Doerr, just let your pipe go out. You are just like a chimney to-day, puffing and smoking all day long. And such a stinking old pipe as yours is not fit for everyone."