When Otto came to see Hilda that evening she was guiltily effusive in
her greeting and made up her mind that, as soon as they were alone, she
must tell him what she had all but done. But first there was the game
of pinochle which Otto must lose to her father. As they sat at their
game she was at the zither-table, dreamily playing May Breezes as she
watched Otto and thought how much more comfortable she was in his
strong, loyal love than in the unnatural strain of Mr. Feuerstein's
ecstasies. "'Work and love and home,'" she murmured, in time to her
music. "Yes, father is right. They ARE the best."