On two trays Olga,
with a glance over her shoulder, placed two butter pats. The
mistress yet slept, but in the kitchen Katrina had a keen eye for
butter--and a hard heart.
Katrina came to the door.
"The hot water is ready," she announced. "And the coffee also.
Hast thou been to mass?"
"Ja."
"That is a lie." This quite on general principle, it being one of
the cook's small tyrannies to exact religious observance from her
underling, and one of Olga's Sunday morning's indulgences to
oversleep and avoid the mass. Olga took the accusation meekly and
without reply, being occupied at that moment in standing between
Katrina and the extra pats of butter.
"For the lie," said Katrina calmly, "thou shalt have no butter
this morning. There, the Herr Doktor rings for water. Get it,
wicked one!"
Katrina turned slowly in the doorway.
"The new Fraulein is American?"
"Ja."
Katrina shrugged her shoulders.
"Then I shall put more water to heat," she said resignedly. "The
Americans use much water. God knows it cannot be healthy!"
Olga filled her pitcher from the great copper kettle and stood
with it poised in her thin young arms.
"The new Fraulein is very beautiful," she continued aloud.
"Thinkest thou it is the hot water?"
"Is an egg more beautiful for being boiled?" demanded Katrina.
"Go, and be less foolish. See, it is not the Herr Doktor who
rings, but the new American."
Olga carried her pitcher to Harmony's door, and being bidden,
entered.
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