The old servant was so privileged a person that she did not like to speak harshly to her, although she did not at all relish Lorischen's frequent allusions as to the real object of the Burgher's visits, and her surmises as to what the neighbours would think about them.

Madame Dort put up with Lorischen's innuendoes in silence, but still, she did not look pleased.
"Ach Himmel, dear mistress!" pleaded the offender, "never mind my waspish old tongue.

I am always saying what I shouldn't; but that little fat man does irritate me with his hypocritical, oily smile and smooth way--calling me his `dearest maiden,' indeed!" "Why, don't you see, Lorischen, that it is you really whom he comes here after, although you treat him so cruelly!" said the widow, smiling.
This was more than the old spinster could bear.
"What, me!" she exclaimed, with withering scorn.

"Himmel, if I thought that, I would soon scratch his chubby face for him--me, indeed!" and she retreated from the room in high dudgeon.
Bye-and-bye, there came another letter from the now familiar correspondent, saying that Fritz was really recovering at last; and, oh what happiness! the mother's heart was rejoiced by the sight of a few awkwardly scrawled lines at the end.

It was a postscript from her son himself! The almost indecipherable words were only "Love to Mutterchen, from her own Fritz," but they were more precious to her than the lengthiest epistle from any one else.
"Any news ?" asked Burgher Jans of Lorischen soon afterwards, when he came to the house to make his stereotyped inquiry.
"Yes," said the old nurse, instead of replying with her usual negative.
"Indeed!" exclaimed the little man.