Wilhelm Kellar stirred in his bed; Walda was at his side in a moment. Everett followed her. Wilhelm Kellar would have spoken, but his tongue still refused to do his bidding. While he was looking up at his daughter and the physician, Mother Kaufmann bustled in. “How comes it that thou art here alone with the stranger?” she asked, casting an ugly look upon Walda. “I am here to serve my father,” said the girl, with a sweet dignity. “Dost thou not know that the Herr Doktor hath assigned me here?” “He is foolish,” snapped Mother Kaufmann. “What art thou saying, woman?” asked the school-master, who had just passed through the doorway. “Walda is in her father’s care and in my care. It is not thy concern to ask questions.” The woman scowled and drew her thin lips tightly over her hideous teeth. “And thou art a second father to Walda, I suppose?” she sneered. “Yea, and more,” said the school-master. “Gerson Brandt hath spoken the truth. He is more than father to me in that he is my teacher and my safe counsellor,” said Walda, stepping back towards him. The school-master’s pale face flushed. “Thou art always my sacred charge for whom I pray,” said Gerson Brandt, in a soft voice. “For thee and for thy happiness I would do all things in my power.” There was that in his face which told the man of the world all emotion had not died in the heart beating beneath the queer coat of the school-master. “Ah, and I pray for thee every night when I ask a blessing for my father,” spoke Walda. “I entreat wisdom and strength for thee.” Gerson Brandt looked into her eyes and a sudden light illumined his face. “Thou needest much of divine aid for thy work with little children,” the girl added. “Yea, yea,” the school-master said, as he turned away. “Yea, yea, didst thou say?” repeated the shrill voice of Mother Kaufmann. “Just remember that thy conversation should be yea, yea and nay, nay.” Ignoring the elder woman, Everett gave a few directions to Walda. Then he passed out into the darkening evening. VI