"I am sorry to have put you at such a disadvantage," glancing at my clothes, which were covered with brown earth.
"Let that be the least of your troubles!" I cried gayly.

Then I hummed in English: So, ho! dear Gretchen, winsome lass, I want no tricky wine, But amber nectar bring to me, Whose rich bouquet will cling to me, Whose spirit voice will sing to me From out the mug divine So, here's your toll--a kiss--away, You Hebe of the Rhine! No goblet's gold means cheer to me, Let no cut glass get near to me-- Go, Gretchen, haste the beer to me, And put it in the stein! I thought I saw a smile on her lips, but it was gone before I was certain.
"Gott in Himmel!" gasped the astonished innkeeper, as I went into the barroom.

I still had the hoe over my shoulder.
"Never mind, mein host.

I've been weeding your knoblauch patch as a method of killing time." "But--" He looked at Gretchen in dismay.
"It was I who led him there," said Gretchen, in answer to his inquiring eyes.
A significant glance passed between them.

There was a question in his, a command in hers.