“They speak naught of it,” replied the sour-visaged woman, as she broke her thread. “Many times have I tried to make Brother Brandt tell me what he really thinks, but thou knowest he hath a way of holding his tongue.” “Walda Kellar hath made a good nurse,” said Mother Werther, who was busy sorting the flax. “Anything that she undertaketh she doeth well.” “She hath too much freedom in that sick-room,” declared Mother Schneider. “Yea, she hath,” agreed Mother Kaufmann. “There are many hours that I cannot be there to watch her.” “Thou forgettest that Walda Kellar needeth not watching as do other girls. She who hath been chosen to speak for the Lord surely can be trusted. And then thou knowest she is with her own father.” Mother Werther cast an indignant glance at the wife of the Herr Doktor, who had started the conversation. “I trust not that physician from the outside world,” said Mother Kaufmann. “He hath queer ways that are not like those of the men of Zanah.” “He is always most kind and thoughtful; he treats women with much reverence,” said Mother Werther. “I know him best of all persons in Zanah, for doth he not stay here at the _gasthaus_?” “Since when didst thou become a good judge of men?” asked Mother Kaufmann, with a taunting laugh that showed her ugly tusks. “The wife who after fifteen years hath not discovered the faults of her husband is not fitted to pass judgment on any man. I do not like that Stephen Everett.” “He is helping Wilhelm Kellar to regain his health,” said a meek, middle-aged woman who sat in a far corner. “It is a fortnight since Brother Kellar was taken ill, and he is still in bed,” said Mother Kaufmann. “Thou forgettest that Brother Kellar hath been nigh unto death,” said Mother Werther. “That doctor from the world is a handsome man,” remarked Gretchen Schneider, who had come in and taken her seat near her mother. “Tut, tut; I am ashamed of thee,” said Mother Schneider, in a tone of reproof. “Thou forgettest that the maidens of Zanah must not look upon men, and must not care whether they be handsome or hideous.” “Dost thou find him more comely than Karl Weisel, our respected elder?” inquired Mother Werther; and, despite the scowl of the wife of the Herr Doktor, smothered laughs were heard from various parts of the room. Gretchen Schneider’s pale face flushed. Before she could reply her mother retorted: “Thy words are unseemly, Sister Werther. I bid thee keep silence.” “I have the right of free speech,” the innkeeper’s wife answered; “and there is none in Zanah who doth not know there would have been a wedding long ago if the head of the thirteen elders had not loved his place of authority better than the daughter of the Herr Doktor.” In a moment Mother Schneider flew into a rage, quite inconsistent with the religious principles of Zanah.