"I was looking at it early this morning," replied Hilda. "There'll have to be at least two hundred dollars spent. But then I've my eye on another place." "Forty's no rent at all," grumbled the old man, pulling at his whiskers. "I can get a store round in Seventh Street for thirty-five and that includes three rooms at the back. You've got only one room at the back." "There's a kitchen, too," said Schulte. "A kitchen? Oh, you mean that closet." "I'll let you have it for forty, with fifty the second year." "No, forty for two years. We can't pay more. We're just starting, and expenses must be kept down." "Well, forty then. You are nice people--hard workers. I want to see you get on." The philanthropic old man returned to his sweeping. "Always the way, dealing with a woman," he growled into his beard. "They don't know the value of anything. Well, I'll get my money anyway, and that's a point." She spent the day shopping and by half-past five had her arrangements almost completed. And she told every one about the coming marriage and the new shop and asked them to spread the news. "We'll be open for business next Saturday a week," she said. "Give us a trial." By nightfall Otto was receiving congratulations. He protested, denied, but people only smiled and winked. "You're not so sly as you think," they said. "No doubt she promised to keep it quiet, but you know how it is with a woman." When he called at Brauner's at seven he was timid about going in. "They've heard the story," he said to himself, "and they must think I went crazy and told it." She had been bold enough all day, but she was shy, now that the time had come to face him and confess--she had been a little shy with him underneath ever since she had suddenly awakened to the fact that he was a real hero--in spite of his keeping a shop just like everybody else and making no pretenses. He listened without a word. "You can't back out now," she ended. Still he was silent. "Are you angry at me?" she asked timidly. He could not speak. He put his arms round her and pressed his face into her waving black hair. "MY Hilda," he said in a low voice. And she felt his blood beating very fast, and she understood. "Arbeit und Liebe und Heim," she quoted slowly and softly. X MR. FEUERSTEIN IS CONSISTENT