Philippina arrived at the front door at ten o'clock in the morning. In
one hand she carried her bundle; by the other she led Agnes, then
studying her _milieu_ with uneasy eyes.
Dorothea opened the door. She was neatly and tastefully dressed: she
wore a blue gingham dress and a white apron with a lace border. Around
her neck was a gold chain, and suspended from the chain a medallion.
"Oh, the children!" she cried cheerfully, "Philippina and Agnes. What do
you think of that! God bless you, children. You are home at last." She
wanted to hug Agnes, but the child pulled away from her as timidly as
she had pulled away from her father yesterday. In either case, she
pulled away!
Philippina screwed her mouth into a knot on hearing a woman ten years
her junior call her a child; she looked at Dorothea from head to foot.
Dorothea scarcely noticed her. "Just imagine, Philippin', the cook
didn't come to-day, so I thought I would try my own hand," said Dorothea
with glib gravity, "but I don't know, the soup meat is still as hard as
a rock. Won't you come and see what's the matter?" She took Philippina
into the kitchen.
"Ah, you've got to have a lid on the pot, and what's more, that ain't a
regular fire," remarked Philippina superciliously.
Dorothea had already turned to something else. She had found a glass of
preserved fruit, had opened it, taken a long-handled spoon, dived into
it, put the spoon to her mouth, and was licking away for dear life.
"Tastes good," she said, "tastes like lemon. Try it, Philippin'." She
held the spoon to Philippina's lips so that she could try it. Philippina
thrust the spoon rudely to one side.
"No, no, you have got to try it. I insist. Taste it!" continued
Dorothea, and poked the spoon tightly against Philippina's lips. "I
insist, I insist," she repeated, half beseechingly, half in the tone of
a command, so that Philippina, who somehow or other could not find her
veteran power of resistance, and in order to have peace, let the spoon
be shoved into her mouth.
Just then old Jordan came out into the hall, and with him the
chimney-sweeper who wished to clean the chimney.
"Herr Inspector, Herr Inspector," cried Dorothea, laughing; and when the
old man followed her call, she gave him a spoonful, too. The
chimney-sweep likewise; he had to have his. And last but not least came
Agnes.
They all laughed; a faint smile even ventured across Agnes's pale face,
while Daniel, frightened from his room by the hubbub, came out and stood
in the kitchen door and laughed with the rest.
"Do you see, Daniel, do you see? They all eat out of my hand," said
Dorothea contentedly. "They all eat out of my hand. That's the way I
like to have things. To your health, folks!"