“At five o’clock I walked for ten minutes in the wet grass. Again in bed. At half-past five I fell asleep, and woke at seven, when I made an ‘overbody’ washing! Again in bed. At eight o’clock I had a cold-water poultice, and at half past eight I drank a cup of mint tea. At nine I drank some malt coffee, and began my ‘cure.’ Pass me the sauerkraut, please. You do not eat it?” “No, thank you. I still find it a little strong.” “Is it true,” asked the Widow, picking her teeth with a hairpin as she spoke, “that you are a vegetarian?” “Why, yes; I have not eaten meat for three years.” “Im—possible! Have you any family?” “No.” “There now, you see, that’s what you’re coming to! Who ever heard of having children upon vegetables? It is not possible. But you never have large families in England now; I suppose you are too busy with your suffragetting. Now I have had nine children, and they are all alive, thank God. Fine, healthy babies—though after the first one was born I had to—” “How _wonderful!_” I cried. “Wonderful,” said the Widow contemptuously, replacing the hairpin in the knob which was balanced on the top of her head. “Not at all! A friend of mine had four at the same time. Her husband was so pleased he gave a supper-party and had them placed on the table. Of course she was very proud.” “Germany,” boomed the Traveller, biting round a potato which he had speared with his knife, “is the home of the Family.” Followed an appreciative silence. The dishes were changed for beef, red currants and spinach. They wiped their forks upon black bread and started again. “How long are you remaining here?” asked the Herr Rat. “I do not know exactly. I must be back in London in September.” “Of course you will visit München?” “I am afraid I shall not have time. You see, it is important not to break into my ‘cure.’” “But you _must_ go to München. You have not seen Germany if you have not been to München. All the Exhibitions, all the Art and Soul life of Germany are in München. There is the Wagner Festival in August, and Mozart and a Japanese collection of pictures—and there is the beer! You do not know what good beer is until you have been to München. Why, I see fine ladies every afternoon, but fine ladies, I tell you, drinking glasses so high.” He measured a good washstand pitcher in height, and I smiled. “If I drink a great deal of München beer I sweat so,” said Herr Hoffmann. “When I am here, in the fields or before my baths, I sweat, but I enjoy it; but in the town it is not at all the same thing.” Prompted by the thought, he wiped his neck and face with his dinner napkin and carefully cleaned his ears. A glass dish of stewed apricots was placed upon the table. “Ah, fruit!” said Fräulein Stiegelauer, “that is so necessary to health. The doctor told me this morning that the more fruit I could eat the better.” She very obviously followed the advice.