They sat down to dinner, and Jochen asked,-- "Where is Rudolph?" "Good gracious, Jochen, what are you talking about?" said Frau Nüssler hastily, "you ought to know by this time, that he never in his life was in season. He has gone fishing; but if people won't come in time, they may go without their dinner." The meal was a quiet one, for Bräsig did not talk, he lay in wait, with all his senses and faculties, and Frau Nüssler wondered in silence what could have so changed her little girls. They sat there laughing and whispering lightly to each other, and looking so happy, as if they were just awaked from a bad dream, and were rejoicing that it wasn't true, and that the sun shone brightly once more. CHAPTER XVIII. When dinner was over, Mining, whose turn it was to help her mother, in clearing up, tidying the room and making coffee, asked her sister, "Lining, where are you going?" "I am going to get my sewing," said Lining, "and sit in the arbor." "Well, I will come soon," said Mining. "And I will come too," said Gottlieb slowly, "I have a book that I must finish reading to-day." "That is right," said Bräsig, "that will be a devilish fine entertainment for Lining." Gottlieb wanted to preach him a little sermon upon his misuse of the word devilish, but restrained himself, since he reflected that it would be thrown away upon Bräsig; so he said nothing, but followed the girls out of the room. "Good heavens!" exclaimed Frau Nüssler, "what has happened to my children? I don't know what to make of it; they are one heart and one soul again." "Keep quiet, Frau Nüssler," said Bräsig, "I will find out all about it, to-day. Jochen, come out with me; but don't go to talking!" Jochen followed him into the garden. Bräsig took him under the arm. "Keep quite still, Jochen, and don't look round, and act as if we were taking a walk after dinner." Jochen did so, very skilfully. When they came to the cherry-tree before the arbor, Bräsig stopped. "So, Jochen, now stoop over,--with your head against the tree." Jochen would have spoken, but Bräsig pushed down his head. "Keep still, Jochen,--put your head against the tree!" and with that he clambered up on Jochen's back. "So I now stand up! Sure enough, I can just reach,"--and he caught the lowest boughs, and pulled himself up into the tree. Jochen had said nothing as yet, but now he broke out: "Bräsig, they are not ripe yet." "Blockhead!" cried Bräsig, looking, with his red face among the green leaves, like a gay basket hung on the branches, "do you think I expect to pick Rhenish cherries on St. John's day? But you must go away now, and not stand there looking at me, like a dog that has treed a cat." "Yes, what shall I do about it?" said Jochen, and left Bräsig to his destiny.