"The devil she has!" escaped Arthur Fredericks' lips.
"Tell me, my dear son, what do you know about him? You must have heard something at the Club, or--"
Mrs. Baumhagen had let her handkerchief fall, and was gazing with a look of woe at her son-in-law.
"Oh, he is a nice fellow enough, but poor as a church mouse. He knows what he is about when he makes up to Gertrude. Confound it! If I had known what he was up to, I would never have asked him here."
"Yes, and she declares she will not give him up," said Jenny.
"I believe that, without any assurances from you; she is your sister. When you have once got a thing into your head--well, I know what happens."
"Arthur!" sobbed the elder lady, reproachfully.
"I must beg, Arthur, that you will not always be charging me with spite and obstinacy," pouted the younger.
"But, my dear child, it is perfectly true--"
"Don't be always contradicting!" cried Mrs. Jenny, energetically, stamping her foot and taking out her handkerchief, ready to cry at a moment's notice. He knew this man[oe]uvre of old and drew his hand hastily through his hair.
"Very well then, what am I to do about it?" he asked. "What do you want of me?"
"Your advice, Arthur," groaned the mother-in-law.
"But he is so entirely without means, as I heard the other day," interposed Mrs. Baumhagen.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Bah! Gertrude can afford to marry a poor man. Besides--I don't know much about Niendorf, but I should think something might be made of it under good management. He seems to be the man for the place, and Wolff was telling me the other day that Linden was going to raise sheep on a large scale."
"That last bit of information of course settles the matter," remarked Jenny, ironically.
"No, no," cried the mother, sobbing again, "you none of you take it seriously enough. I cannot bring myself to consent, I have hardly exchanged half a dozen words with this Linden. Oh, what unheard-of presumption!" She rose from her chair, and crimson with excitement threw herself on the lounge.
"Now look out for hysterics," whispered Arthur, indifferently, taking out a cigar.
Jenny answered only by a look, but that was blighting. She took her train in her hand and swept past her astonished husband.