Together they hesitated while the Senator surveyed the room.
He felt sorry to think that such deserving people must suffer so; he intended, in a vague way, to ameliorate their condition if possible.
"Good-morning," the Senator said to Jennie, when finally she came hesitatingly into the room.
"How do you do to-day?"
Jennie came forward, extending her hand and blushing.
She found herself so much disturbed by this visit that she could hardly find tongue to answer his questions.
"I thought," he said, "I'd come out and find where you live.
This is a quite comfortable house.
How many rooms have you?"
"Five," said Jennie.
"You'll have to excuse the looks this morning. We've been ironing, and it's all upset."
"I know," said Brander, gently. "Don't you think I understand, Jennie? You mustn't feel nervous about me."
She noticed the comforting, personal tone he always used with her when she was at his room, and it helped to subdue her flustered senses.
"You mustn't think it anything if I come here occasionally. I intend to come. I want to meet your father."
"Oh," said Jennie, "he's out to-day."
While they were talking, however, the honest woodcutter was coming in at the gate with his buck and saw.
Brander saw him, and at once recognized him by a slight resemblance to his daughter.
"There he is now, I believe," he said.
"Oh, is he?" said Jennie, looking out.
Gerhardt, who was given to speculation these days, passed by the window without looking up.
He put his wooden buck down, and, hanging his saw on a nail on the side of the house, came in.
"Mother," he called, in German, and, then not seeing her, he came to the door of the front room and looked in.
Brander arose and extended his hand.
The knotted and weather-beaten German came forward, and took it with a very questioning expression of countenance.
"This is my father, Mr. Brander," said Jennie, all her diffidence dissolved by sympathy.
"This is the gentleman from the hotel, papa, Mr. Brander."
"What's the name?" said the German, turning his head.
"Brander," said the Senator.
"Oh yes," he said, with a considerable German accent.
"Since I had the fever I don't hear good. My wife, she spoke to me of you."
"Yes," said the Senator, "I thought I'd come out and make your acquaintance. You have quite a family."
"Yes," said the father, who was conscious of his very poor garments and anxious to get away.
"I have six children—all young.
She's the oldest girl."
Mrs. Gerhardt now came back, and Gerhardt, seeing his chance, said hurriedly: "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go.
I broke my saw, and so I had to stop work."
"Certainly," said Brander, graciously, realizing now why Jennie had never wanted to explain.
He half wished that she were courageous enough not to conceal anything.
"Well, Mrs. Gerhardt," he said, when the mother was stiffly seated,
"I want to tell you that you mustn't look on me as a stranger.
Hereafter I want you to keep me informed of how things are going with you.
Jennie won't always do it."
Jennie smiled quietly.
Mrs. Gerhardt only rubbed her hands.
"Yes," she answered, humbly grateful.
They talked for a few minutes, and then the Senator rose.
"Tell your husband," he said, "to come and see me next Monday at my office in the hotel.
I want to do something for him."
"Thank you," faltered Mrs. Gerhardt.
"I'll not stay any longer now," he added.