Following them close, there entered the dining-room a woman who painted
pictures and sold them. Hedwig Vogel was about fifty, tall, angular,
hard-featured. She was reported to be very rich and very mean. Moreover,
she was an undoubted democrat; for when Elsa von Ente's lady patron came
to the house, everybody kissed the august dame's hand except Hedwig Vogel
and "the Mees." Of course "the Mees," poor thing! knew no better; but
Fräulein Vogel!--a woman guilty of such a misdemeanor was capable of
putting dynamite in Bismarck's night-cap. She responded curtly to the
greeting given to her by the Von Entes, and then asked where the Frau
Pastorin might be.

"Here," answered a soft voice, and the plump, smiling, suave mistress of
the house entered and seated herself at the table. 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?"

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.