At a moment of absolute silence an intruding voice made itself heard, inviting immediate attention in these words:-- "I say, you two! If you want to see the finest pair of gloves in Frankfort, just look here." There he stood with outstretched hands, exhibiting a pair of bright green gloves, and standing higher in his own estimation than ever.
"Why do you always come in without knocking ?" Fritz asked, with excusable indignation.
"Why have _you_ always got your arm round her waist ?" Jack retorted.

"I say, Miss Minna (I only offer a remark), the more he kisses you the more you seem to like it." "Send him away, for Heaven's sake!" Minna whispered.
"Go upstairs!" cried Fritz.
"What! do you want to be at it again ?" asked Jack.
"Go and show your new gloves to Madame Fontaine," said Minna.
The girl's quick wit had discovered the right way to get rid of Jack.

He accepted the suggestion with enthusiasm.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "that's a good idea! It would never have entered your head, Fritz, would it ?" Before Fritz could reply, Jack was out of his reach.
The widow sat in her room, innocently reading the newspaper.

A cake happened to be on the table at her side; and a bottle of sparkling lemonade, by the merest coincidence, was in the near neighborhood of the cake.