"If he did not do so, it would be an insult," replied the wife. "He must do it, or it would give occasion for people to talk. We cannot object to it; he will send a basket of flowers with gloves for the godmother, and Laura will send him in return the pocket-handkerchief, as is the custom among our acquaintances. You know that Laura's godmother thinks a great deal of these things." "His flowers in our house, his gloves on our fingers, and our handkerchief in his pocket!" said the master of the house, bitterly; "Pray, what are things coming to." "I beg of you, Hummel," rejoined his wife, displeased, "do not annoy us by finding fault with the civilities which are unavoidable, on such an occasion, and of which no one takes advantage." "I thank you for your civilities which one cannot avoid, and to which no one attributes anything. Nothing is so insupportable to me, among the people here, as their eternal obeisances before one's face, whilst they pull one to pieces behind one's back." He left the room and slammed the door behind him. The mother then began: "He has nothing really to say against it; he only wishes to maintain his character for sternness. It is not absolutely necessary that you should send the Doctor a present on this occasion, but you still owe him some little attention from that encounter with the shepherd." Laura was reconciled to the thought of becoming godmother with the Doctor, and said: "I will make a design for the corner of the handkerchief, and will embroider it." The following morning she went out to buy cambric. But Mr. Hummel also went out. He visited an acquaintance who was a furrier, took him confidentially aside, and ordered a pair of gloves of white cat's skin for a small hand; he directed that a cat's claw be fastened at the point of each finger. But he wished it to be a delicate one, of an unborn cat, or failing in that, of a very young kitten, and that the claw should stand out stiffly. Then he entered another shop and asked for some colored printed cotton pocket-handkerchiefs--such as one buys for a few pennies--and chose one black and red, with a frightful portrait, that just suited his frame of mind. This purchase he put in his pocket. The morning of the christening arrived. In the house of Mr. Hummel the flat-irons clattered; the mother added some last stitches; and Laura tripped busily up and down the stairs. Meanwhile, Hummel wandered back and forth between the door of the house and factory, watching every person that entered. Spitehahn was sitting on the threshold growling whenever the foot of a stranger approached the door of the house. "Show yourself as you are, Spitehahn," grumbled Hummel, approaching his dog; "and catch hold of the woman from yonder by the dress; she will not venture in, if you keep watch." The red dog answered by showing his teeth maliciously at his master. "That's right," said Hummel, and continued his walk.