tinguished, and I was really elated with the beautiful contents of that missive. He seemed to be someone who worked diligently for the Lord, for he wrote that the wife of Shawlman ought to obtain a separation from such a wretch, who allowed her to suffer poverty, who was not able to earn his living, and who moreover was a scoundrel, as he was in debt . . . that the writer of the letter was concerned about her condition, although she had brought her fate upon herself by her own fault, as she had forsaken the Lord, and stuck to Shawlman . . . that she must return to the Lord, and that then probably the whole family would put their heads together to try to get her needlework to do . . . but before all she must get separated from that Shawlman, who was a real disgrace to the family.
In short, one could not have found more edification in the Church than there was in that letter.
I knew enough, and was grateful for having been warned in so wonderful a manner. For without that warning, shouldn’t I again have become the victim of my own kind heart? I therefore decided once more that I should keep Bastians until I found a suitable substitute, for I hate driving anyone out into the street, and at present we can’t spare one employee, as there is so much doing with us.
The reader will no doubt be curious to know how I got on at the last party, and whether I found the triolet. Well, I never went to that party. Most wonderful things have happened: I have been to Driebergen with my wife and Marie. My father-in-law, old Last, the son of the first Last—when the Meyers were still in it, but they are out of it long ago—had over and over again said that he would like to see my wife and Marie. Now it happened to be good weather, and my dread of the love-story Stern had threatened us with suddenly brought back to my mind that invitation. I spoke about it to our book-keeper, who is a man of much experience, and who after mature reflection submitted to me for consider-
