``I would,'' he said, ``and I do. And it isn't a scandal.''

Some one joined them and he had no chance to continue until the
following Sunday, when Heiligs and Brauners went together to the
Bronx for a half-holiday. They could not set out until their
shops closed, at half-past twelve, and they had to be back at
five to reopen for the Sunday supper customers. They lunched
under the trees in the yard of a German inn, and a merry party
they were.

Hilda forgot to keep up her pretense that her healing wounds were
not healing and never would heal. She teased Otto and even
flirted with him. This elevated her father and his mother to
hilarity. They were two very sensible young-old people, with a
keen sense of humor--the experience of age added to the
simplicity and gaiety of youth.

You would have paused to admire and envy had you passed that way
and looked in under the trees, as they clinked glasses and called
one to another and went off into gales of mirth over nothing at
all. What laughter is so gay as laughter at nothing at all? Any
one must laugh when there is something to laugh at; but to laugh
just because one must have an outlet for bubbling spirits there's
the test of happiness!

After luncheon they wandered into the woods and soon Otto and
Hilda found themselves alone, seated by a little waterfall, which
in a quiet, sentimental voice suggested that low tones were the
proper tones to use in that place.