"No, you vait," said Koerner, "chust a minute. You know my boy, Mis’er Marriott, Archie? Vell, I write him aboudt der case, but I don’t get a answer. He used to write eff’ry two veeks, undt now--he don’t write no more. Vot you t’ink, huh?" The old man looked up at him in the hunger of soul that is even more dreadful than the hunger of body. "I’ll attend to that, too, Mr. Koerner; I’ll write down and find out, and I’ll let you know." "Undt Gusta," the old man began as if, having opened his heart at last, he would unburden it of all its woes--but he paused and shook his head slowly. "Dot’s no use, I guess. De veat’er’s getting bedder now, undt maybe I get out some; maybe I look her up undt find her." "You don’t know where she is?" The white head shook again. "She’s go avay--she’s got in trouble, too." In trouble! It was all the same to him--poverty, hunger, misfortune, guilt, frailty, false steps, crime, sin--to these wise poor, thought Marriott, it was all just "trouble." "But it will be all right," he said, "and I’ll advance you what money you need. I’ll write to the warden about Archie, we’ll find Gusta, and we’ll win the case." He thought again--the old man might as well have his dream, too. "You’ll go back to Germany yet, you’ll see." Koerner looked up, clutching at hope again. "You t’ink dot? You t’ink I vin, huh?" "Sure," said Marriott heartily, determined to drag joy back into the world. "Py Gott, dot’s goodt! I guess I beat dot gompany. I vork for it dose t’irty-sefen year; den dey turn me off. Vell, I beat him, yet. Chust let dot lawyer Ford talk; let him talk his damned headt off. I beat him--some day." "I’ll go now, Mr. Koerner. I’ll speak to the grocer, and I’ll send you something so you can have a little supper. No, don’t get up." Koerner stretched forth his hand. "You bin a goodt friendt, Mis’er Marriott." Marriott went to the grocery on the corner. The grocer, a little man, very fat, ran about filling his orders, sickening Marriott with his petty sycophancy. "Some bacon? Yes, sir. Sugar, butter, bread? Yes, sir. Coffee? Here you are, sir. Potatoes--about a peck, sir?" Marriott, with no notion of what he should buy, bought everything, and added some tobacco for Koerner and some candy for the children. And when he had arranged with the grocer for an extension of credit to Koerner on his own promise to pay--a promise the canny grocer had Marriott indorse on the card he gave him--Marriott went away with some of the satisfaction of his good deed; but the grace of spring had gone out of the day and would not now return. XX