"Lieber Herr Je!" gasped Thekla.

"Then I shall go, too, pretty quick, that is all, mamma," said he.

Thekla wiped her eyes. A little pause fell between them, and in it
they may have both remembered vanished, half-forgotten days when life
had looked differently to them, when they had never thought to sit
by their own fireside and discuss suicide. The husband spoke first;
with a reluctant, half-shamed smile, "Thekla, I tell you what,
I make the bargain with you; you git me back that place, I don't
do it again, 'less you let me; you don't git me back that place,
you don't say notings to me."

The apron dropped from the withered, brown hands to the floor.
Again there was silence; but not for long; ghastly as was the alternative,
the proposal offered a chance to escape from the terror that was
sapping her heart.

"How long will you give me, papa?" said she.

"I give you a week," said he.

Thekla rose and went to the door; as she opened it a fierce gust
of wind slashed her like a knife, and Lieders exclaimed, fretfully,
"what you opening that door for, Thekla, letting in the wind?
I'm so cold, now, right by the fire, I most can't draw.
We got to keep a fire in the base-burner good, all night,
or the plants will freeze."