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What if they made little excursions to Zons or to Xanten? What if there was a supper in Joe Buckley's studio, and Kitty Waring and Anna van der Meer a sedate creature from Rotterdam was she were taught how to make a true, good bowl? Who cared? In fact, all DÃ¥sseldorf cared. One day the Frau Pastorin called Kitty into her parlor. "Dear child," she began, "if your good mother "
"She has been dead fifteen years," said Kitty. "If your father " continued the Frau Pastorin. "He? Oh, I can't remember him at all," said Kitty. "Have you no family?" was the question that the Frau Pastorin put squarely. "An uncle or two somewhere in Iowa," Kitty answered. "An aunt brought me up, and then died, poor thing!"
As she bowed her head to invoke a blessing on the smoked herring, the raw ham, the salad, the three kinds of bread, a tardy boarder opened the dining-room door. She stood on the threshold for a minute, then moved swiftly to her place. "Good-evening, Mees," said the Frau Pastorin, and "Good-evening, Mees," echoed the Von Entes.
Fräulein Vogel contented herself with a nod, and attacked bread and ham in hungry silence. "Your walk has given you a fine color," the Frau Pastorin continued blandly. Then, turning to the artist, "You should paint the Mees, Fräulein. 'A Study of America. That would sound well, would it not?"
And so old Zweifarbe lost a pupil, for Kitty's easel was straightway borne on the back of a sturdy dienstmann to Fräulein Vogel's studio. What a chatter, what a commotion, it caused in the nest of painters! They chirped and gossiped and pecked each other like a flock of sparrows. The Frau Pastorin expressed the popular sentiment when she discussed Hedwig Vogel's eccentricities.
The Study of America smiled a little disdainfully, and refused the raw ham and the herring offered to her by Elsa von Ente. She had refused raw ham and smoked herring at least a hundred times, but yet the Frau Pastorin protested. "I am sad there is nothing for you," she murmured in English, a language she fondly fancied she spoke. "Oh, there is bread galore," said the Mees.
"We have them here," murmured the Frau Pastorin sweetly. "Do you?" said Mees, quite as sweetly. And Hedwig Vogel burst out laughing. The Frau Pastorin bit her lip, the Von Ente girls looked blank, and Annette scuttled away, smelling danger from afar, for she knew full well that she often received a vicarious reproof.
Did an angel from heaven bring the money? 'No, my child, was the smiling answer, 'but now I am sure that it will come. She had hardly spoken, when a maid in peasant costume entered, saying: 'The master of the Linden Inn sends to ask whether the Frau Pastorin can spare time to see him? 'Ah, I know what he wants, answered our mother.
Red-armed Annette gave a final glance at the table, and as the clock was striking eight summoned Frau Pastorin Raben's boarders to supper. Promptly came the two Von Ente girls, high-born and high-posed damsels, forced to make themselves teachers. It had been a sad blow to their pride. The elder was somewhat consoled by a huge carbuncle brooch given to her by Kaiser Wilhelm himself.
In a little sketch of Beate Paulus, the Frau Pastorin pleads with God in a great crisis not to forsake her, quaintly adding that she was "willing to be the second whom He might forsake," but she was "determined not to be the first."* George Muller believed that, in all ages, there had never yet been one true and trusting believer to whom God had proven false or faithless, and he was perfectly sure that He could be safely trusted who, "if we believe not, yet abideth faithful: He cannot deny Himself."
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