At any rate, those things are getting said nowadays; he'll have to hear them sooner or later." "Had he better hear them at home ?" demanded his wife.
"Why, you know, as you're here to refute them, Isabel," he teased, "perhaps it's the best place.

But don't mind poor old Lindau, my dear.
He says himself that his parg is worse than his pidte, you know." "Ah, it's too late now to mind him," she sighed.

In a moment of rash good feeling, or perhaps an exalted conception of duty, she had herself proposed that Lindau should come every week and read German with Tom; and it had become a question first how they could get him to take pay for it, and then how they could get him to stop it.

Mrs.March never ceased to wonder at herself for having brought this about, for she had warned her husband against making any engagement with Lindau which would bring him regularly to the house: the Germans stuck so, and were so unscrupulously dependent.

Yet, the deed being done, she would not ignore the duty of hospitality, and it was always she who made the old man stay to their Sunday-evening tea when he lingered near the hour, reading Schiller and Heine and Uhland with the boy, in the clean shirt with which he observed the day; Lindau's linen was not to be trusted during the week.