Arms and the Woman

"Thank you, Herr," was the soft reply. Then Gretchen became as dumb,

and our return to the inn was made in silence. Once there, however,

she recovered. "I am sorry to have put you at such a disadvantage,"

glancing at my clothes, which were covered with brown earth.

"Let that be the least of your troubles!" I cried gayly. Then I hummed

in English:

So, ho! dear Gretchen, winsome lass,

I want no tricky wine,

But amber nectar bring to me,

Whose rich bouquet will cling to me,

Whose spirit voice will sing to me

From out the mug divine

So, here's your toll--a kiss--away,

You Hebe of the Rhine!

No goblet's gold means cheer to me,

Let no cut glass get near to me--

Go, Gretchen, haste the beer to me,

And put it in the stein!

I thought I saw a smile on her lips, but it was gone before I was

certain.

"Gott in Himmel!" gasped the astonished innkeeper, as I went into the

barroom. I still had the hoe over my shoulder.

"Never mind, mein host. I've been weeding your knoblauch patch as a

method of killing time."

"But--" He looked at Gretchen in dismay.

"It was I who led him there," said Gretchen, in answer to his inquiring

eyes.

A significant glance passed between them. There was a question in his,

a command in hers. I pretended to be examining the faded tints in the

stein I held in my hand.

I was thinking: "Since when has an innkeeper waited on the wishes of

his barmaid?"

There was a mystery after all.