She had taken her things off and hung them up on one of the pegs in the little hallway. She had wished even as she did so that she didn't have to leave them there. They'd be the first things Otto would see and perhaps ... But such misgivings and some others had given way before that delicious odor and Liesel's warm welcome. She looked so pretty, so appetizing, in that big, pink apron. As she went back into the kitchen her aunt could hear her singing an old waltz from the "Graf von Luxenburg," "Bist meine liebe, kleine Frau." Frau Stacher had for a moment the illusion that she was still living at Baden and that she had only come in for the day. There, too, was her little inlaid worktable that had belonged to her own mother and that Liesel had taken for safe-keeping when the house was given up. She'd always kept her wools and her fine darning in it and Liesel did the same. "Can't I help?" she asked, as she continued to look at it, rent by a sudden, terrible homesickness, that made her voice quite weak. "No, you just sit quiet and rest. Everything is ready. It's time for Otto to come, anyway," Liesel answered with a look at her wrist watch. "He's always to the minute. He only has an hour for dinner and must find everything ready." Indeed as she spoke the rattle of a key was heard at the front door. She flew to it. There were the unmistakable, immemorial sounds of embracing and then a whispered word from Liesel. "Ach, yes, yes," Tante Ilde heard him answer. He had hung up his green plush hat with the little grey feather at the back on its own invariable peg, had divested himself of his overcoat, with its rather high, tight belt and hung it up on the next by Tante Ilde's hat and coat, just as she had known he would, but without the inhospitable thoughts her humility had attributed to him. As he entered he was combing his hair and moustache with his little pocket comb and smiling his somewhat fatuous smile.