While the Yankee miss is often to be identified by complaints of a physical nature, Elsa had no aches or pains to talk about. She had a strength competent to support all her energetic, meritorious endeavors. A thoroughly well woman--what an exceptional being, a god-send! It is not the fashion with maids beyond the Rhine to be ailing. Weak backs, nervous prostration, indigestion and similar indispositions were not topics at the Buchers'. To be coquettishly delicate or romantically ill is a liability to the Germans. Health, unenchanting as it may be, is a prime asset. That the Teuton women are gormands--what is that compared with their willingness to mother six or more sturdy youngsters? Had Frau Bucher been an Elsa at twenty? Yes, in the main, yet impossible to conceive. Would Elsa become at fifty-five like her parent? Heaven forbid! But Youth ignores such deterrent probabilities. The daughter and her manifold achievements easily bowled Gard over. Was he in love or did he merely imagine he was? Was he filling with the divine fire or only being smitten? Who could ever tell? And what is, in fact, the practical difference? Kindly old Rebner had hinted that it would not be amiss in Gard to bring home one of the excellent German _maedchens_ with her brimming stock of health and efficiency. "She would be an answer to our American servant girl question, flood your fireside with invigorating music, and rear a house full of robust children. It would be a novel and commendable experiment and experience for you, Kirtley." Of course Heine is the approved route with a German girl. Gard borrowed from Fraeulein an old copy of the "Buch der Lieder." Very obliging at times like the rest of the family in the business of improving his accent, she urged that if he would commit some of those little prized poems to heart, she would supervise his intonations. He eagerly betook himself to this charming exercise, and it was not long before he was inviting her to walk along that alluring path through the meadow by the persuasive water. Here he repeated over and over to her the very pertinent lines, Thou'rt like unto a flower, and Thou lov'st me not, thou lov'st me not, under the conscientious reproofs of her engaging diction. But never more than for half an hour at a time. This was all she could spare him. Her days were very strictly divided by her pressing concerns. A sightly young woman so tremendously busy--it was almost exasperating. And he could not establish any tender quality of relationship that would warm a delectable exchange of rosy intimations or tentative expressions of budding feelings of delight. It was teacher and pupil. She unsuspectingly insisted on following her role of preceptress and very earnest was she about it, too.