She pulls a little face and observes carelessly. "That's nothing much to be! Sister-in-law is in itself already as much as half a sister." Then, smilingly looking him up and down, she remarks: "I think one might put up with you as a brother." "Five foot ten--been Uhlan of the Guard--does that suffice?" "And you might even turn out a good playfellow." "Do you require one?" "Yes, very badly! It is so quiet and solemn here. There's not a soul to romp about with as I used to with my brothers at home. Sometimes I felt half inclined to collar one of the mill-hands, but dignity and respect forbade such a thing." "Well, I am here now," he laughs. And she: "I set great hopes on you!"-- "Then collar me!" "You are too floury for me." "A fine miller's wife to be afraid of flour," he teases. "Never mind," she interrupts, "I shall soon put your playing powers to the test." In the gloaming, when they are once more sitting together on the veranda, and Johannes, like his brother, sits dreaming with his head hidden in the foliage, he suddenly feels a round, indefinable something hit his head and then drop to the ground. "Perhaps it was a cock-chafer," he thinks to himself, but the attack is renewed two or three times. Then he begins to suspect Trude, who sits like a perfect picture of innocence, humming quite dolefully to herself, "In Yonder Verdant Valley," while she works little bread pellets which evidently serve as her missiles. He suppresses a merry laugh, secretly gets hold of a branch of the vine on which a few of last year's dried-up berries are still hanging, and when she lets fly a new volley at him, he promptly dispatches his reply at her little nose. She flinches, looks at him quite amazed for a moment, and when he bends towards her with the most serious face in the world, she bursts into a loud, joyful laugh. "What's the matter again now?" asks Martin, startled from his dreaming. "He has withstood the test," she laughs, putting her arm around her husband's neck. "What test?" "If I tell you, you will grumble, so I had better be silent." Martin looks at Johannes questioningly. "Oh, it's nothing," says he smiling; "it was only nonsense. We were--bombarding each other." "That's right, children--you bombard one another," Martin says, and goes on smoking in silence. Johannes is ashamed of himself, while Trude challenges her playfellow with mischievous glances. "Full of play," yes, that was it; that was what Martin Rockhammer had called his wife. Henceforth there are to be no more of those peaceful silent hours in the gloaming which Martin loves so well. The quiet paths of the garden resound with song and laughter, across the lawn figures dart, as quick as the wind, in pursuit of each other;--they let loose the dogs and race with them;--they hunt the wild cats that frequent the mill-yard--they play hide-and-seek behind the haystacks and hedges. Martin looks on at all these doings with kindly, fatherly indulgence.