But he grimly put it out, and for one more last moment the old, brutal Ravant tried to come back. Alas! she was on the floor there before him, her elbows on his knees, her face, halting between smiles and tears, upraised to his, looking out of its glory of living hair, watching the portents there. And when they did not develop fast enough toward joy, she locked her hands behind his neck suddenly and drew his head down, to the peril of a dislocation. “You _must_ stay to support your beggar wife; don’t you see?—_won’t_ you understand?—and perhaps her beggar—_child_!” “What!” cried Ravant, everything else out of his head in an instant. “I always keep my biggest trump for the last, dearest. All women do, don’t they? It’s so lovely to play it then—when every one thinks all is lost. Oh, beloved! smile, laugh, shout with me! How _can_ you go away now when you have a beggar wife to support, and a beggar—ch—! Ah! ha! ha!” How could the old, brutal Ravant come back? He never did. How could he go? He did not. “But we will _not_ sell your house. We will go back, even if it must be in the steerage, and work _together_, live _together_, happily ever after!” “Dominus vobiscum!” cried Ravant’s happy wife, leaping into his arms. And all this, save the steerage, they did. And at this very moment they are living as happily as they planned. [Illustration: “_She was on the floor there before him, her face upraised to his_”] LIEBEREICH[4] I THE HOUSE THAT HE AND EMMY BUILT “He’d be better off,” said Mrs. Schwalm, referring to the possible death of old Liebereich. “You don’t mean you’d be?” grinned Hermann Schlimm. He had drifted into Mrs. Krantz’s kitchen, among the women, after the funeral. No one gave him any attention. Old Liebereich’s wife had just been buried, and they were met to pay Mrs. Krantz their respects. She had been the “next-door neighbor” through Mrs. Liebereich’s illness. There was some strawberry preserve presently, and some “field tea.” Then Mrs. Krantz said to Mrs. Schwalm: “You had better go now.” Mrs. Schwalm was “next door” on the other side. She would now housekeep for old Liebereich for a week. Then Mrs. Engwein, who lived next to Mrs. Krantz, would take her turn, and so on while old Liebereich lived—which it was thought would not be long. For no one ever went to “the poor-house” or “the home” from this German vicinage. These things were so well understood that they were not even discussed at this gathering. But there was a well-defined understanding that the brief management of old Liebereich would be difficult. Mrs. Schwalm rose to go. “He won’t fold his britches unless you make him,” warned Mrs. Krantz. “And I’ve heared,” said another, “that he never hangs ’em on the back of a cheer if he kin put ’em on the floor.” Old Liebereich had an odious reputation for this sort of thing. “You know Emmy she spoiled him.” “If _he_ didn’t do things, _she_ done ’em.”