4. FRAU FISCHER.

Frau Fischer was the fortunate possessor of a candle factory somewhere on
the banks of the Eger, and once a year she ceased from her labours to make
a "cure" in Dorschausen, arriving with a dress-basket neatly covered in a
black tarpaulin and a hand-bag. The latter contained amongst her
handkerchiefs, eau de Cologne, toothpicks, and a certain woollen muffler
very comforting to the "magen," samples of her skill in candle-making, to
be offered up as tokens of thanksgiving when her holiday time was over.

Four of the clock one July afternoon she appeared at the Pension Muller. I
was sitting in the arbour and watched her bustling up the path followed by
the red-bearded porter with her dress-basket in his arms and a sunflower
between his teeth. The widow and her five innocent daughters stood
tastefully grouped upon the steps in appropriate attitudes of welcome; and
the greetings were so long and loud that I felt a sympathetic glow.

"What a journey!" cried the Frau Fischer. "And nothing to eat in the
train--nothing solid. I assure you the sides of my stomach are flapping
together. But I must not spoil my appetite for dinner--just a cup of
coffee in my room. Bertha," turning to the youngest of the five, "how
changed! What a bust! Frau Hartmann, I congratulate you."

Once again the Widow seized Frau Fischer's hands. "Kathi, too, a splendid
woman; but a little pale. Perhaps the young man from Nurnberg is here
again this year. How you keep them all I don't know. Each year I come
expecting to find you with an empty nest. It's surprising."