ice," he concluded, smiling like a diligent schoolboy. Old Herr Buck still held him fast with his hand which was warm yet light and soft in its pressure.
"My service"—he shoved forward a chair for Diederich—"you mean, of course, the service of your fellow citizens, who will be grateful to you. I think I can promise you that they will shortly elect you to the Town Council, for that would be a mark of respect to a family which deserves it, and then"—old Buck made a gesture of dignified generosity—"I rely upon you to give us an early opportunity of seeing you raised to the bench."
Diederich bowed, smiling happily, as if he already had been raised to the honour. "I do not say," continued Herr Buck, "that public opinion in our town is sound in every respect"—his white beard sank onto his necktie—"but there is still room"—his beard rose again—"and God grant it may long be so, there is still room for genuine Liberals."
"I need hardly tell you I am thoroughly liberal," Diederich assured him.
Old Buck ran his hand over the papers on his desk. "Your lamented father often used to sit opposite to me here, and particularly at the time when he was building the paper mill. To my great joy I could be of use to him in that matter. It was a question of the stream which now flows through your yard."
Diederich said in a grave voice: "How often, Herr Buck, my father has told me that he owed to you the stream without which we could not exist."
"You must not say that he owed it only to me, but rather to the happy circumstances of our civic life." Looking earnestly at Diederich, the old gentleman raised his white forefinger: "But certain people and a certain party would like to make many changes as soon as they could." With deep feeling: "The enemy is at the gate; we must stand together."
A moment passed in silence, then in lighter tones and with
