'You fully expect to marry Gustav?' I asked.
'We are verlobt,' answered Mina, not without a little air of dignity.
'Verlobt once, verlobt always,' said the little maiden, confidently.
'But why, then, does the gardener speak of Jacob, if you are engaged to this Gustav?'
'O, fader he like the old, and Jacob is old, thirty year! His wife is gone to the Next Country. Jacob is a brother, too; he write his name in the book. But Gustav he not do so; he is free.'
'You mean that the baker has signed the articles, and is a member of the Community?'
'Yes; but the baker is old, very old; thirty year! Gustav not twenty and three yet; he come home, then he sign.'
'And have you signed these articles, Wilhelmina?'
'Da ich Unterzeichneter,'--began the girl.
'I cannot understand that. Tell me in English.'
'Well; you wants to join the Zoar Community of Separatists; you writes your name and says, "Give me house, victual, and clothes for my work and I join; and I never fernerer Forderung an besagte Gesellschaft machen kann, oder will."'
'Will never make further demand upon said society,' I repeated, translating slowly.
'No; for what? It's no good,' answered Wilhelmina.
I knew that all the necessaries of life were dealt out to the members of the Community according to their need, and, as they never went outside of their valley, they could scarcely have spent money even if they had possessed it. But, nevertheless, it was startling in this nineteenth century to come upon a sincere belief in the worthlessness of the green-tinted paper we cherish so fondly. 'Gustav will have learned its value,' I thought, as Mina, having finished the strawberry-bed, started away towards the dairy to assist in the butter-making.
I strolled on up the little hill, past the picturesque bakery, where through the open window I caught a glimpse of the 'old, very old Jacob,' a serious young man of thirty, drawing out his large loaves of bread from the brick oven with a long-handled rake. It was gingerbread-day also, and a spicy odor met me at the window; so I put in my head and asked for a piece, receiving a card about a foot square, laid on fresh grape-leaves.
'But I cannot eat all this,' I said, breaking off a corner.
'O, dat's noding!' answered Jacob, beginning to knead fresh dough in a long white trough, the village supply for the next day.