It was, "There, you have ruined the row back of you!" or "Pull the weeds more gently!" and sometimes, "Ach! could your friends see you now!" I suppose that I did not make a pretty picture.

The perspiration would run down my face.

I would forget the condition of my hands and push back my hair, which fell like a mop over my brow, whereat she would laugh.

Once I took her hand and helped her to jump over a row.

I was surprised at the strength of her grasp.
"What does Herr do for a living, he works so badly as a gardener ?" "I am a journalist," I answered, leaning on my hoe and breathing heavily.
"Ach! one of those men who tell such dreadful stories about kings and princes?
Who cause men to go to war with each other?
Who rouse the ignorant to deeds of violence?
One of those men who are more powerful than a king, because they can undo him ?" She drew away from me.
"Hold on!" I cried, dropping the hoe; "what do you know about it ?" "Enough," sadly.