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Updated: May 6, 2025
I stopped and turned a look of surprise upon him. "Don't you know that the Knapfs are leaving? Did I neglect to mention that this is a farewell party for Herr and Frau Knapf? We are losing our home, and we have just one week in which to find another." "But where will you go? And why did you not tell me this before?" "I haven't an idea where I shall lay my poor old head.
Would you think me stagey and silly if I were to kiss you, just once, on your beautiful trusting eyes?" A telephone bell tinkled downstairs and Herr Knapf stationed himself at the foot of the stairs and roared my name. When I had picked up the receiver: "This is Ernst," said the voice at the other end of the wire. "I have just remembered that I had asked you down-town for supper."
Perhaps rents were too high. Perhaps, thought I, Frau Knapf had been too liberal with the butter in the stewed chicken. Perhaps there had been too many golden Pfannkuchen with real eggs and milk stirred into them, and with toothsome little islands of ruddy currant jelly on top. Perhaps there had been too much honest, nourishing food, and not enough boarding-house victuals.
"Thank God for your gift of laughter," Von Gerhard said, and took my hand in his for one brief moment before he turned and walked away. Quite prosaically I opened the big front door at Knapfs' to find Herr Knapf standing in the hallway with his: "Nabben', Frau Orme." And there was the sane and soothing scent of Wienerschnitzel and spluttering things in the air.
What a waste of good money! For see, a young wife I do not want. Young women one can have in plenty, always. But I have an old woman married, and for an old woman the gowns need be few eh, Frau Orme? And you too, Frau Knapf?" Frau Knapf, crimson and staring, was dumb.
"Ach, no!" smiled the substantial Frau Knapf, clinging tightly to the door knob. "I got no time. It gives much to do to-night yet. Kuchen dough I must set, und ich weiss nicht was. I got no time." Bustling, red-cheeked Frau Knapf! This was why I had never had a glimpse of her. Always, she got no time.
We three women stood looking down at him as he lay there in the quaint old blue-painted bed that had once held the plump little Knapfs. "You think anyway he had enough supper? mused the anxious-browed Frau Knapf. "To school he will have to go, yes?" murmured Frau Nirlanger, regretfully.
We had a last family gathering in token of our appreciation of Herr and Frau Knapf. And because I had not seen him for almost three weeks; and because the time for his going was drawing so sickeningly near; and because I was quite sure that I had myself in hand; and because he knew the Knapfs, and was fond of them; and because-well, I invited Von Gerhard.
Then does she don a bright blue silk waist and a velvet coat that is dripping with jet, and a black bonnet on which are perched palpitating birds and weary-looking plumes. Then she and Herr Knapf walk comfortably down to the Pabst theater to see the German play by the German stock company.
All the week Frau Knapf bakes and broils and stews, her rosy cheeks taking on a twinkling crimson from the fire over which she bends. But on Sunday night Frau Knapf sheds her huge apron and rolls down the sleeves from her plump arms. On Sunday evening she leaves pots and pans and cooking, and is a transformed Frau Knapf.
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