The Story of a Summer

in their freshness. In the matter of aprons she must be quite reckless, for they always look as if just from the ironing-table. They are made, too, in an especially pretty fashion that I have never before seen out of Munich. Scorning chignons, Minna appears with her own luxuriant hair in massive braids wound about her well-shaped head, and as to-day is Sunday and a Fest-tag, she adorns herself with a large shell-comb. She has very pretty, coquettish ways, that have already melted the heart of our hitherto unsusceptible Bernard, and it is quite charming to hear her attempts to converse with him in her broken English.

Minna came to me this morning directly after breakfast, and said, "Where shall I go to church, Fräulein Cecilia?"

"I do not really know, Minna," I replied. "You are a Lutheran, I suppose?"

"Yes, Fräulein Cecilia."

"There is no church of that sort here," I said, "but there is a Reformed Church next door."

With a very doubtful expression, s