So it happened that when I returned to work, and Semantha’s excited and very German welcome had been given, I noticed a change in her.  When my eyes met hers, instead of smiling instantly and broadly at me, her eyes sank to the ground and her face flushed painfully.  At last we were left alone for a few moments.  Quick as a flash, Semantha shut the door and bolted it with the scissors.  Then she faced me; but what a strange, new Semantha it was!  Her head was down, her eyes were down, her very body seemed to droop.  Never had I seen a human look so like a beaten dog.  She came quite close, both hands hanging heavily at her sides, and in a low, hurried tone she began:  “Clara, now Clara, now see, I’ve been usen your soap—­ach, it smells so goot!—­nearly all der time!”—­“Why,” I broke in, “you were welcome!”

But she stopped me roughly with one word, “Wait,” and then she went on.  “Und der pins—­why, I can’t no more count.  Und der hair-pins, und der paint,” (her voice was rising now), “oh, der lofely soft pink paint! und I used dem, I used ’em all.  Und I never t’ought you had to pay for dem all.  You see, I be so green, fraeulein, I dun know no manners, und I did, I did use dem, I know I did; but, so help me, I didn’t mean to spoonge, und by Gott I didn’t shteal!”

I caught her hands, they were wildly beating at the air then, and said, “I know it, Semantha, my poor Semantha, I know it.”

She looked me brightly in the eyes and answered:  “You do? you truly know dat?” gave a great sigh, and added with a fervour I fear I ill-appreciated, “Oh, I hope you vill go to heaven!” then quickly qualified it, “dat is, dat I don’t mean right avay, dis minute—­only ven you can’t keep avay any longer!”

Then she sprang to her dress hanging on the hook, and after struggling among the roots of her pocket, found the opening, and with triumph breathing from every feature of her face, she brought forth a small white cube, and cried out, “Youst you look at dat!”

I did; it seemed of a stony structure, white with a chill thin line of pink wandering forlornly through or on it (I am sure nothing could go through it); but the worst thing about it was the strange and evil smell emanating from it.  And this evil, white, hard thing had been purchased from a pedler under the name of soap, fine shaving or toilet soap, and now Semantha was delightedly offering it to me, to use every night, and I with immense fervour promised I would use it, just as soon as my own was gone; and I mentally registered a solemn vow that the shadow of my soap should never grow less.