moment he and Fritz were grappling furiously in the dark. It seemed
about an even chance who was to be precipitated down the steep
staircase; but just as the father was within an inch of the dangerous
edge, the hall door was torn open, and Mother Uberta, followed by Ilka
with a lamp in her hand, sprang forward, grasped the combatants in her
strong arms and flung them against the opposite wall. They both fell
on the floor, but each managed, without serious injury, to extricate
himself from the other's embrace.

"You are a fine, well-behaved lot, you are!" broke out Mother Uberta,
planting herself, with arms akimbo, in front of the two culprits, and
dispensing her adjectives with equal liberality to both.

"It was a mistake, madam, I assure you," said Hahn huskily, as he
pulled out his handkerchief, and began to whip the dust off his
trowsers.

The wreath of thin hair which he had carefully combed, so as to make
the nakedness of his crown less conspicuous, was bristling toward all
the points of the compass. His tall hat had gone on an independent
journey down the stairs, and was heard tumbling deliberately from step
to step. Fritz, who had recovered himself much more rapidly, seemed to
have forgotten that he had himself borne any part in the disgraceful
scene; he looked at his father with kind of a pitying superiority, and
began to assist him in the repair of his toilet, with the air of an
officious outsider, all of which the crest-fallen father endured with
great fortitude. He seemed only anxious to explain the situation to
the two women, who were still viewing him with marked disapproval.

"It was all a mistake, madam--a great mistake," he kept repeating.