As he sat there thinking somewhat dolefully about himself and forgetting his opened books, a loud knock was heard at his door. It was Frau Bucher with her knitting. She had never honored him with a call in his room. Something must be the matter. At his invitation she came in and sank into a chair. Her face and hair were mussed. She was laboring under a great strain. The sons with their ill-luck had troubled her. The recent mishaps had evidently alarmed her, upset her, so that it was now the daughter filling the mother's anxious hours. "Your daughter--Fraeulein Elsa!" Gard exclaimed in astonishment. "Yes, my poor daughter. Oh, good Herr Kirtley, you have always been so kind. I have treated you this winter like a son--just like my own sons." "You have been very good to me, Frau Bucher," interpolated Kirtley, hastening to offer any consolation, although he could not imagine what distress had brought her to him. "Well, my daughter--you know it has always been the intention that she marry Friedrich--ever since they were almost children. But, mein Gott, the poor Friedrich does not arrive at anything. We love him. All our friends love him--admire him. But he can get no fixed position. We wait, he waits, Elsa waits. Always hopes and more hopes and nothing comes. And he is so disappointed. No Kapellmeistership. Only small engagements which do not pay much and soon end. He has no money and what little we have to give with Elsa will not answer until he is permanently established. "You see Friedrich is a courageous fellow and he is apt to speak his mind. You remember how he mimicked the military. My husband and I think he makes enemies by his impulsive temper. You know what musicians are. They talk right out. We think his enemies put difficulties in his way. And so nothing is settled. We keep waiting and here we are. Elsa wants to marry. She wants children!" exploded the artless Frau. The abruptness of this confession in the matter-of-fact German way almost overcame Gard with embarrassment. He recovered himself at length to ask: "Does she love him?" "Ach Himmel! does she love him? Haven't you seen her so dumb at times? But nothing comes to pass--and when will there be anything? She gets her grumpy spells over these postponements--always postponements. You know young people are impatient. They don't understand such things. She wants to marry. Every young girl wants to marry and have children. I may die. My husband may die at any time. And she won't be settled for life." The mother went off in a vigorous scene of upheaval. The slender and youthful Kirtley felt himself unequal to the task of trying to comfort her bulky person with its commotions. "But what do you want me to do? Frau Bucher?"