marching past us, each saluting us with "A good appetite to you!" or
else "May you eat well!" They had been called together by Frau T----
and the sewing-machinist, Fraülein Magdalena, for Rosenkranz.

Hardly were they kneeling in the chapel, a small building at the
farther side of the chalet, when the pig marched also up the passage,
and grunting out his "Guten appetit," proposed taking his place at our
table. We drove him out of doors: he waited behind the house corner to
avoid detection until we were comfortably seated, when again he was
at our side, snuffing the dishes in the air and grunting his "Guten
appetit."

We were in despair. Moidel was not forthcoming, and we found that we
could not shut the door against our intruding visitor.

"_Was thust du? Na, na! Draus, draus, Kloane_!" ("What dost thou? No,
no! Out with thee, little one!"), said a voice in the passage; and
a short man, with a good-natured, half-foolish face, after releasing
himself from a heavily-laden basket which he carried on his back,
walked through the passage and out of the farther door, attended by
the pig, who lovingly rubbed his snout against him. The stranger knelt
down at one of the shattered windows of the chapel, his four-footed
companion standing patiently by him, until the orison was over and
the worshipers trooped out of the little chapel. Then the knowing pig
trotted off to his own quarters, whilst one voice exclaimed, "You are
back again, Seppl?"

"You've not forgotten my bread?" said a second.

"You've brought me the knitting needles?" said a third.