Neighboring Visit

The appearance of her neighbor at the front door bright and early caught Marion von Dortmann completely off guard.

“Why, Ingrid!” she exclaimed hesitantly, still recovering from the surprise. “Good morning… what… but what a pleasant surprise!”

The expression on Frau Schmundt’s face, as she glanced this way and that, indicated that she had called for more than merely morning coffee.

“I understand you have guests, Marion,” she said.

“Why, Ingrid… whatever gave you that idea?”

“My Gustav said you had visitors,” repeated the countess with importunity. “I just thought perhaps I could help.” The look of annoyed curiosity on her countenance said that it was something other than being helpful she had really come for.

“I can’t imagine—”

It was with great relief that Marion saw her husband come round the corner of the house toward the front door. He wore his work boots and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He carried a large, black, greasy component of tractor engine that he and Hans had been working on. His face was covered with perspiration, for the day was already warm, and his shirt and pants were well coated with dirt from his labors.

“Look who’s here, dear!” she said, trying to hide the sigh of relief that accompanied the words. “Ingrid says she heard we had guests,” she added nervously.

Heinrich laughed. “I can’t think how,” he said. “No, only family here. But it is nice to see you, Ingrid! Come in and join us for coffee!”

The baron set the hunk of iron down on the ground, wiped his hands across the front of his trousers without much effect, led the way inside past the two women, who were still standing at the front door, and went to the west parlor.

“Why don’t you go tell Carola to bring us coffee and tea, dear,” said the baron to his wife. “Countess von Schmundt and I will visit in the parlor until you return.”

Even as his mother was pretending to enjoy the feigned social call with the baron and his wife, Gustav von Schmundt awoke, sprawled across his bed still in his clothes, feeling worse than he looked, and with a dreadful headache. What he wouldn’t have given to have slept another ten or twelve hours!

With great difficulty he turned himself over on his back, thought for a few minutes about taking off his clothes and climbing under the featherbed covering he had spent the night on top of, thought better of it, then groped his way to the edge of the bed and tried to stand.

His head exploded with pain as he rose, though the throbbing did serve to bring him fully awake. If his brain wasn’t exactly clear, at least its pain sensors were functioning.

He staggered out of his room and somehow managed to make his way downstairs.