Even at this early stage I could see that Gretchen had the faculty of making persons forget what they were seeking, and by the mere sound of her voice.

And it was I who wound the clock.
"Gretchen," said I, "time lags.

Make a servant out of me this morning." "Herr does the barmaid too much honor," with lowered eyes.
"I, am in the habit of doing anything I please." "Ah, Herr is one of those millionaires I have read about!" "Yes, I am very rich." I laughed, but Gretchen did not see the point.
"Come, then, with me, and you shall weed the knoblauch patch." She was laughing at me, but I was not to be abashed.
"To the patch be it, then!" I cried.

"An onion would smell as sweet under any other name." So Gretchen and I went into the onion patch, and I weeded and hoed and hoed and weeded till my back ached and my hands were the color of the soil.

Nothing was done satisfactorily to Gretchen.