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Updated: June 7, 2025
In his study of this subject, and during the prosecution of vigorous and searching inquiries in various directions, he learned that Mr. John C. Brauner, then residing in Brooklyn, New York, had an expert knowledge of indigenous plants of the particular kind desired. During the course of a geological survey which he had made for the Brazilian Government, Mr.
But if you don't come I'll never speak to you again!" And she left him and went to the other counter and ordered the chickens from Schwartz. Heilig was wretched, another of those hideous dilemmas over which he had been stumbling like a drunken man in a dark room full of furniture ever since he let his mother go to Mrs. Brauner and ask her for Hilda.
But Hilda was under no delusion. She shivered and moved nearer to Otto. She felt that he was her hope in this crisis which the mad love of her hero-lover had forced. Brauner was the more angry because he had been thus taken by surprise. "What nonsense is this?" he growled, shaking his head violently. "My daughter is engaged to a plain man like ourselves."
The spectacle was adroitly arranged to move the hungry to yearning, the filled to regret, and the dyspeptic to rage and remorse. And behind the show-window lay a shop whose shelves, counters and floor were clean as toil could make and keep them, and whose air was saturated with the most delicious odors. Mrs. Brauner nodded. "Heilig was up at half-past four this morning," she said.
She knew that if any one else had dared thus to attack their boy, his father would have been growling and snapping like an angry bear. "That's right!" he retorted with mock scorn. "Defend your children! You'll be excusing Hilda for putting off Heilig next." "She'll marry him give her time," said Mrs. Brauner.
Listen to Otto it'll break my heart if you frown on my marrying the man I love." There was a touch of Mr. Feuerstein in her words and tone. "Let's have our game, Mr. Brauner," interrupted Otto. "All this can be settled afterward. Why spoil our afternoon?" Brauner examined Mr. Feuerstein, who was posing as a statue of gloomy wrath.
"She's romantic, but she's sensible, too why, she was born to make a good wife to a hard-working man. Where's there another woman that knows the business as she does? You admit on her birthdays that she's the only real helper you ever had." "Except you," said her husband. "Never mind me." Mrs. Brauner pretended to disdain the compliment. Brauner understood, however.
In its first floor was a delicatessen the sign read "Schwartz and Heilig." Paul Brauner pointed with his long-stemmed pipe at the one show-window. "Fine, isn't it? Beautiful!" he exclaimed in Low-German they and almost all their friends spoke Low-German, and used English only when they could not avoid it. The window certainly was well arranged.
Brauner was advancing into the shop and his lowering face warned Mr. Feuerstein not to linger. With a last, appealing look at Hilda he departed. "What was HE doing here?" growled Brauner. "He'd just come in," answered Hilda absently. "He won't bother us any more." "If he comes again, don't speak to him," said Brauner in the commanding voice that sounded so fierce and meant so little.
Otto felt that the recitation was idiotic "Nobody ever carried on like that," he said to himself. But he also felt the pitiful truth, "I haven't got a ghost of a chance." He rose as soon as he could muster the courage. "I must get back and help Schwartz open up," he said, looking round forlornly. "It's five o'clock." "You must stay to coffee," insisted Mrs. Brauner.
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