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SHE HAD BEEN LOST IN EVERYTHINGSHE HAD PARTLY SEEN AND HEARD
"But I guessed it," said the father, no other answer being heard. "I suppose it is homecoming. Isn't it, Rolf? Let me touch your glass now and also let me thank you for the riddle."
While Rolf joyfully stepped up to his father, several frightened voices cried out, "Fire, fire!"
The next moment, everyone leaped from their seats, Battist and Trine came running out with bottles and buckets from the kitchen, and Hans came from the stable with another bucket. All rushed about shrieking wildly, "The bush is on fire, the hedge is on fire." The confusion and noise was truly amazing.
"Dora, Dora!" a wailing voice called down to the little garden of the neighboring cottage, and the next moment Dora hastened into the house from her place of observation. She had been so lost in everything she had partly seen and heard that she had not realized that she had been squatting on the ground for two full hours.
Upstairs, the aunt in grief and fright had pulled her belongings from the wardrobes and drawers and had piled them high as for immediate flight.
"Aunt Ninette," said Dora timidly, conscious of having remained away too long. "Don't be frightened any more. Look, it is dark again in the garden over there and all the lights are out."
Upon gazing over, the aunt saw that everything was dark and the last lights had been put out. Now a very dim lantern approached the apple tree. Probably somebody was setting things in order there.
"Oh, it is too terrible! Who could have guessed it!" moaned the aunt. "Go to bed now, Dora. We'll see tomorrow whether we shall move or leave the place entirely."
Dora quickly retired to her room but she could not go to sleep for a long, long while.
She saw before her the garden and the gleaming apple tree, heard the merry children's voices and also, their father's pleasant, happy words. She could not help thinking of her own dear father who had always been willing to listen to her, and she realized how fortunate her little neighbors were. She had felt so drawn to the children and their kind parents, that the thought of moving away from the house quite upset her. She could not go to sleep for a long, long while, for her mind was filled with the recent impressions. Finally her own beloved father seemed to be gazing down at her and saying the comforting words as he used to do:
"'Yet God keeps watch above usAnd doeth all things well.'"
These words were still in her mind as she went to sleep, while the lights, the gleaming tree and merry children across the way followed her into her dreams.
After the fire was put out, Willi and Lili were found to be the culprits. Thinking that Rolf's riddle would look more beautiful if made transparent from behind like the inscription used every Christmas behind their tree, "Glory to God on High," they had fetched two lights. Then standing on a high step which had been used for fastening the inscription, they held the lights very near the riddle. When no joyful surprise was shown on any of the faces, they put the lights still nearer, till at last the paper was set on fire, catching the nearby branches. They owned up to their unfortunate undertaking at once and, in honor of the festive occasion, were sent to bed with only mild reproof. Of course they were forbidden to make further experiments with fire.
Soon after, deep quiet reigned in the house, and peacefully the moon shone down over the sleeping garden and the splendid tall trees.
ALL SIX
"We shall have to move away from here, Mrs. Kurd," were Aunt Ninette's first words the following morning when she came down to breakfast. "We seem to have come into a dreadful neighborhood. We had better move today."
Speechless with surprise, Mrs. Kurd stood still in the middle of the room. She looked at Mrs. Ehrenreich as if she could not comprehend the meaning of her words.
"I mean it seriously, Mrs. Kurd, we must move today," repeated Aunt Ninette.
"But you could not possibly find more delightful neighbors in all Tannenberg, Mrs. Ehrenreich, than we have here," began Mrs. Kurd as soon as she had recovered from her amazement.
"But, Mrs. Kurd, is it possible you did not hear the terrific noise last evening? It was worse than any of the things we especially meant to avoid."
"It was only the children, Mrs. Ehrenreich. They happened to be especially lively because they had a family party last evening."
"If such feasts are celebrated first by a wild explosion of joy, and end with a fire and an unspeakable confusion, I call such a neighborhood not only noisy but dangerous. We had better move at once, Mrs. Kurd, at once."
"I don't believe the fire was intended to take place at the party," Mrs. Kurd reassured the aunt. "It was probably a little accident and was at once put out. Everything is most orderly in that household, and I really cannot believe that the lady and gentleman can possibly want to move on account of such neighbors as we have. You would be sure to repent such a decision, for no better rooms can be had in all Tannenberg."
Aunt Ninette calmed down a trifle, and began breakfast with Dora and Uncle Titus.
Breakfast was over by that time in the big house, and the father was attending to business while the mother was looking after her household duties. Rolf, who had a daily Latin lesson with a pastor of the neighboring parish, had long ago left the house. Paula was having a music lesson with Miss Hanenwinkel, while Willi and Lili were supposed to review their work for the coming lessons. Little Hun sat at his table in the corner, examining his sorrowful looking nutcracker-man.
Now Big Jul, who had just returned from his morning ride, entered the room, his whip in his hand and the new spurs on his feet.
"Who'll take off my riding boots?" he shouted, flinging himself into a chair and admiring his shiny spurs. Immediately Willi and Lili flew towards him, glad of a chance to leave their work.
With not the slightest hesitation, Willi and Lili took hold, and before Jul could prevent it, he was pulled off his chair, Willi and Lili having hold of him and not the boots. At the last instant, he had been able to seize the chair, which, however, tumbled forward with him.
Jul cried loudly, "Stop, stop!" which brought little Hun to his big brother's rescue.
Holding the chair from the back, the small boy pushed with all his strength against the twins. But he was pulled forward, too, and found himself sliding along the floor as on an ice-slide. Willi and Lili anxious to complete their task, kept up their efforts in utter disregard of Jul's insistent commands to stop, and the words:
"O, Willi and Lili,You twins, would you kill me?"
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BEFORE JUL COULD PREVENT IT,HE WAS PULLED OFF HIS CHAIR.
Little Hun shrieked loudly for assistance, till at last, the mother came upon the scene. Willi and Lili let go suddenly, Jul swung himself back to the chair, and little Hun, after swaying about for a few seconds, regained his balance.
"But, Jul, how can you make the little ones so wild? Can't you be doing something more profitable?" the mother admonished her eldest son.
"Yes, yes, I'll soon be at a more profitable occupation, dear mamma. But I feel as if I helped you with their education," he began in a conciliating tone. "If I keep Willi and Lili busy with innocent exercise like taking my boots off, I keep them out of mischief and any dreadful exploits of their own."
"You had better go to your profitable occupation, Jul. What nonsense you talk!" declared the mother. "And Lili, you go to the piano downstairs at once and practice, till Miss Hanenwinkel has finished with Paula. Till then Willi must study. I should call it a better thing, Jul, if you saw to the little ones in a sensible way, till I come back."
Jul, quite willing, promised to do his best. Lili hastened to the piano, but being in a rather excited mood, she found her fingers stumbling over each other while doing scales. The little pieces therefore tempted her more and she gaily and loudly began to play:
"Rejoice, rejoice in lifeWhile yet the lamp is glowingAnd pluck the fragrant roseIn Maytime zephyrs blowing!"
Uncle Titus and his wife had just finished breakfast when the riding-boot scene took place in the big house. Uncle Titus went straight to his room and barred the windows, while his wife called to the landlady, begging her to listen to the noise, herself. But the whole affair made a different impression on Mrs. Kurd than she had hoped.
"Oh, they have such times over there," said Mrs. Kurd, amused. When Mrs. Ehrenreich tried to explain to her that such a noise was not suitable for delicate people in need of rest, Mrs. Kurd suggested Mr. Ehrenreich's taking a little walk for recreation to the beautiful and peaceful woods in the neighborhood. The noise over there would not last very long. The young gentleman just happened to be home for the holidays and would not stay long. Lili's joyful piece, thrummed vigorously and sounding far from muffled, reached their ears now.
"What is that? Is that the young gentleman who is going away soon?" inquired Aunt Ninette excitedly. "What is coming next, I wonder? Some new noise and something more dreadful every moment. Is it possible, Mrs. Kurd, you have never heard it?"
"I never really noticed it very much. I think the little one plays so nicely, one can't help liking it," Mrs. Kurd declared.
"And where has Dora gone? She seems to be becoming corrupted already, and I can't manage her any more," wailed the aunt again. "Dora, Dora, where are you? This is dreadful, for she must start on her work today."
Dora was at the hedge again, happily listening to the song Lili was drumming on the piano. She appeared as soon as her aunt called to her, and a place was immediately chosen near the window, where she was to sew for the rest of the day.
"We can't possibly stay here," were the aunt's last words before leaving the room, and they nearly brought tears to Dora's eyes. The greatest wish of her heart was to stay just here where so many interesting things were going on, and of which she could get a glimpse now and then. Through her opening, she could hear a great deal and could watch how the children amused themselves in their pretty garden. Dora puzzled hard to find a way which would prevent their moving. However, she could find none.
Meanwhile eleven o'clock had come, and Rolf came rushing home. Seeing his mother through the open kitchen door, he ran to her.
"Mamma, mamma!" he cried before he was inside. "Can you guess? My first makes—"
"Dear Rolf," the mother interrupted, "I beg you earnestly to look for somebody else; I have no time just now. Go to Paula. She is in the living room." Rolf obeyed.
"Paula!" he cried from below. "Guess: My first makes—"
"Not now, please, Rolf!" retorted Paula. "I am looking for my notebook. I need it for making a French translation. Here comes Miss Hanenwinkel, try her. She can guess well."
Rolf threw himself upon the newcomer, Miss Hanenwinkel. "My first makes—"
"No time, Rolf, no time," interrupted the governess. "Go to Mr. Jul. He is in the corner over there, having his nuts cracked for him. Go to him. See you again."
Miss Hanenwinkel, who had once been in Italy, had in that country acquired the habit usual there of taking leave of people, and used it now on all occasions. If, for instance, the knife-sharpener arrived, she would say, "You here again. Better stay where you belong! See you again." With that she quickly closed the door. If the governess were sent to meet peddlers, or travelling salesmen coming to the house on business, she would say, "You know quite well we need nothing. Better not come again. See you again," and the door was quickly shut. This was Miss Hanenwinkel's peculiarity.
Jul was sitting in a corner, and in front of him, sat little Hun, busy giving his sorrowful looking nutcracker nuts to crack, which he conscientiously divided with Jul.
Rolf stepped up to the pair. "You both have time to guess. Listen!"
"'My first is just an animal forlorn.My second that to which we should be heir,And with my whole some lucky few are bornWhile others win it if they fight despair.'"
"Yes, you are right. It is courage," explained the quick older brother.
"Oh, but you guessed that quickly!" said Rolf, surprised.
"It is my turn now, Rolf. Listen, for it needs a lot of thinking. I have made it up just this minute," and Jul declaimed:
"'My first is sharp as any needle's end,My second is the place where money grows,My whole is used a pungent taste to lend,And one you'd know, if only with your nose.'"
"That is hard," said Rolf, who needed time for thinking. "Just wait, Jul, I'll find it." Herewith, Rolf sat down on a chair in order to think in comfort.
Big Jul and small Hun meanwhile kept on cracking and eating nuts, Jul varying the game by sometimes trying to hit some goal in the room with a shell.
"I know it!" cried Rolf, overjoyed. "It is pick-pocket."
"Oh, ho, Rolf, how can you be so absurd! How can a pick-pocket smell?" cried Jul, disgusted. "It is something very different. It's spearmint."
"Yes, I see!" said Rolf, a little disappointed. "Wait, Jul, what is this?"
"'My first within the alphabet is found,My second is a bread that's often sweet;My third is something loved by active feet.My whole means something more than just to go around.'"
"Cake-walk," said Jul with not the slightest hesitation.
"Oh ho, entirely wrong," laughed Rolf, "that doesn't work out. It has three syllables."
"Oh, I forgot," said Jul.
"You see you are wrong," triumphed Rolf. "It is abundance. Wait, I know still another."
"The first—"
"No, I beg to be spared now, for it is too much of an exertion, and besides I must see to Castor." Jul had jumped up and was running to the stable.
"Oh, what a shame, what a shame!" sighed Rolf. "Nobody will listen to me any more and I made up four more nice riddles. You can't guess, Hun, you are too foolish."
"Yes, I can!" declared the little boy, offended.
"All right, try then; but listen well and leave these things for a while. You can crack nuts later on," urged Rolf and began:
"'My first is closest bonds that can two unite,My second like the shining sun is bright;My whole's a flower that thrives best in wet groundAnd like my second in its color found.'"
"A nutcracker," said little Hun at once. Jul being the little one's admired model, he thought that to have something to say at once was the chief point of the game.
"I'll never bother with you again, Hun; there is nothing to be done with you," cried Rolf, anxious to run away. But that did not work so simply, little Hun, who had caught the riddle fever, insisted upon trying out his first attempt.
"Wait, Rolf, wait!" he cried, holding on to Rolf's jacket. "It is my turn now and you must guess. My first can be eaten, but you can't drink it—"
"I suppose it's going to be nutcracker!" cried Rolf, running away from such a stupid riddle as fast as his legs could carry him.
But the small boy ran after him, crying all the time, "You didn't guess it! You didn't guess it! Guess it, Rolf, guess!"
All at once, Willi and Lili came racing towards him from the other side, crying loudly, "Rolf, Rolf, a riddle, guess it! Look at it, you must guess it!" and Lili held a piece of paper directly under Rolf's nose, while Hun kept on crying, "Guess, Rolf, guess!" The inventor of riddles was now in an extremity himself.
"Give me a chance, and I'll guess it," he cried, waving his arms to fight them off.
"As you can't guess mine, I'll go to Jul," said Hun disdainfully, turning his back.
Rolf seized the small slip of paper, yellow from age, which Lili was showing him. He looked perplexed at the following puzzling words written apparently by a child's hand:
"My hand.Lay firmlyWanted to beBut otherwiseOne staysAnd eachAnd now willThis leafWhen the time comesThat the piecesfitWe'll rejoiceAnd we'll goNever."
"Perhaps this is a Rebus," said Rolf thoughtfully. "I'll guess it, if you leave me alone a minute. But I must think hard."
There was not time for that just then, for the dinner bell rang loudly and the family began to gather around the large dining' room table.
"What did you do this morning, little Hun?" asked the father, as soon as everybody had settled down to eating.
"I made a riddle, papa, but Rolf won't guess my riddles, and I can't ever find Jul. The others are no good, either."
"Yes, papa," eagerly interposed Rolf now, "I made four or five lovely riddles, but no one has time to guess except those who have no brains. When Jul has guessed one, he is exhausted. That is so disappointing, because I usually have at least six new ones for him every day."
"Yes, papa," Willi and Lili joined in simultaneously, "and we found a very difficult puzzle. It is even too hard for Rolf to guess. We think it is a Rebus."
"If you give me time, I'll guess it," declared Rolf.
"The whole house seems to be teeming with riddles," said the father, "and the riddle fever has taken possession of us all. We ought to employ a person for the sole purpose of guessing riddles."
"Yes, if only I could find such a person," sighed Rolf. To make riddles for some one who would really listen and solve them intelligently seemed to him the most desirable thing on earth.
After lunch the whole family, including Miss Hanenwinkel, went outside to sit in a circle under the apple tree, the women and girls with some sewing or knitting. Even little Hun held a rather doubtful looking piece of material in his hand into which he planted large stitches with some crimson thread. It was to be a present for Jul in the shape of a cover for his horse. Jul, according to his mother's wish, had brought out a book from which he was supposed to read aloud. Rolf sat under the mountain-ash some distance away, studying Latin. Willi, who was expected to learn some verses by heart, sat beside him. The small boy gazed in turn at the birds on the branches overhead, at the workmen in the field below, and at the tempting red apples. Willi preferred visible objects to invisible ones and found it difficult to get anything into his head. It was a great exertion even to try, and he generally accomplished it, only with Lili's help. His study-hour in the afternoon, therefore, consisted mostly in contemplating the landscape round about.
Jul, that day, seemed to prefer similar observations to reading aloud. He had not even opened his book yet, and after letting his glances roam far and wide, they always came back to his sister Paula.
"Paula," he said now, "you have a face today as if you were a living collection of worries and annoyances."
"Why don't you read aloud, Jul, instead of making comparisons nobody can understand?" retorted Paula.
"Why don't you begin, Jul?" said the mother. "But, Paula, I can't help wondering, either, why you have been in such a wretched humor lately. What makes you so reserved and out of sorts?"
"I should like to know why I should be confiding, when there is no one to confide in. I have not a single girl friend in Tannenberg, and nobody at all to talk to."
The mother advised Paula to spend more time either with her small sister or Miss Hanenwinkel, who was only twenty years old and a very nice companion for her. But Paula declared that the first was by far too young and the other much too old, for twenty seemed a great age to Paula. For a real friendship, people must be the same age, must feel and think the same. They must at once be attractive to each other and hate the thought of ever being separated. Unless one had such a friend to share one's joys and experiences, nothing could give one pleasure and life was very dull.
"Paula evidently belongs to the romantic age," said Jul seriously. "I am sure she expects every little girl who sells strawberries to produce a flag and turn into a Joan of Arc, and every field laborer to be some banished king looking for his lost kingdom among the furrows."
"Don't be so sarcastic, Jul," his mother reproved. "The sort of friendship Paula is looking for is a beautiful thing. I experienced it myself, and the memories connected with mine are the sweetest of my whole life."
"Tell us about your best friend, mamma," begged Paula, who several times already had heard her mother speak of this friendship which had become a sort of ideal for her. Lili wanted to hear about it, too. She knew nothing except that she recalled the name of her mother's friend.
"Didn't you call me after your friend's name, mamma?" asked the little girl, and her mother assured her this was so.
"You all know the large factory at the foot of the mountain and the lovely house beside it with the big shady garden," began the mother. "That's where Lili lived, and I remember so vividly seeing her for the first time."
"I was about six years old, and was playing in the rectory garden with my simple little dolls. They were sitting around on fiat stones, for I did not have elaborate rooms for them furnished with chairs and sofas like you. Your grandfather, as you know, was rector in Tannenberg and we lived extremely simply. Several children from the neighborhood, my playmates, stood around me watching without a single word. This was their way, and as they hardly ever showed any interest in anything I did, and usually just stared at everything I brought out, they annoyed me very much. It didn't matter what I brought out to play with, they never joined in my games."
"That evening, as I knelt on the ground setting my dolls around a circle, a lady came into the garden and asked for my father. Before I could answer, a child who had come with the lady ran up to me and, squatting on the ground, began to examine all my dolls. Behind each flat stone, I had stuck up another so the dolls could lean against it. This pleased her so much, that she at once began to play with the dolls and made them act. She was so lively that she kept me spellbound, and I watched her gaily bobbing curls and wondered at her pretty language, forgetting everything for the moment except what she was doing with my dolls. Finally, the lady had to ask for my father again."
"From that day on, Lili and I were inseparable friends, and an ideal existence began for me at Lili's house. I shall never forget the blissful days I spent with her in her beautiful home, where her lovely mother and excellent father showed me as much affection as if I were their own child. Lili's parents had come from the North. Her father, through some agents, had bought the factory and expected to settle here for life. Lili, was their only child, and as we were so congenial, we wished to be together all the time. Whenever we were separated, we longed for each other again, and it seemed quite impossible for us to live apart.
"Lili's parents were extremely kind, and often begged my parents as an especial favor to let me stay with Lili for long visits, which seemed like regular long feasts to me. I had never seen such wonderful toys as Lili had, and some I shall never forget as long as I live. Some were little figures which we played with for whole days. Each had a large family with many members, of which everyone had a special name and character. We lived through many experiences with them, which filled us with joy and sorrow. I always returned home to the rectory laden with gifts, and soon after, I was invited again."
"Later, we had our lessons together, sometimes from the school teacher, Mr. Kurd, and sometimes from my father. We began to read together and shared our heroes and heroines, whose experiences thrilled us so much that we lived them all through ourselves. Lili had great fire and temperament, and it was a constant joy to be with her. Her merry eyes sparkled and her curls were always flying. We lived in this happy companionship, perfectly unconscious that our blissful life could ever change."
"But just before we were twelve years old, my father said one day that Mr. Blank was going to leave the factory and return home. These words were such a blow, that I could hardly comprehend them at first. They made such an impression on me, that I remember the exact spot where my father told me. All I could understand was that Mr. Blank had been misinformed about the business in the beginning and was obliged to give it up after a severe loss. My father was much grieved, and said that a great wrong had been done to Lili's father by his dishonest agents. He had lost his whole fortune as a result."
"I was quite crushed by the thought of losing Lili, and by her changed circumstances besides. It made me so unhappy that I remember being melancholy for a long, long time after. The following day, Lili came to say goodbye, and we both cried bitterly, quite sure of not being able to endure the grief of our separation. We swore eternal friendship to each other, and decided to do everything in our power to meet as often as possible. Finally, we sat down to compose a poem together, something we had frequently done before. We cut the verses through in the middle—we had written it for that purpose—and each took a half. We promised to keep this half as a firm bond, and if we met again, to join it together as a sign of our friendship."
"Lili left, and we wrote to each other with great diligence and warm affection for many years. These letters proved the only consolation to me in my lonely, monotonous life in the country. When we were young girls of about sixteen or seventeen, Lili wrote to me that her father had decided to emigrate to America. She promised to write to me as soon as they got settled there, but from then on, I never heard another word. Whether the letters were lost, or Lili did not write because her family did not settle definitely anywhere, I cannot say. Possibly she thought our lives had drifted too far apart to keep up our intercourse. Perhaps Lili is dead. She may have died soon after her last letter—all this is possible. I mourned long years for my unforgettable and dearest friend to whom I owed so much. All my inquiries and my attempts to trace her were in vain. I never found out anything about her."
The mother was silent and a sad expression had spread over her features, while the children also were quite depressed by the melancholy end of the story.
One after the other said, sighing, "Oh, what a shame, what a shame!"
But little Hun, who had listened most attentively, had drawn tenderly near his mother and said comfortingly, "Don't be sad, mamma! As soon as I am big, I'll go to America and fetch Lili home to you."
Rolf and Willi had also joined the other listeners, and after thoughtfully gazing at a slip of paper in his hand, Rolf asked, "Mamma, did the poem you cut apart look like a Rebus, written on a narrow paper?"
"Perhaps, Rolf. It might have given that impression," replied the mother. "Why do you ask?"
"Look, mamma," said Rolf, holding out the yellowish slip of paper, "don't you think this might be your half?"
"Rolf, it really is," cried the mother, agitated. "I thought I had lost it for good, for after keeping it many years, I suddenly could not find it. I have never really thought about it, till I told you about this friendship. Where did you find this dear token, Rolf?"
"We found it!" cried Willi and Lili simultaneously. "We found it in the old family Bible. We wanted to see if Eve's face was still scratched up," the twins continued, taking turns giving their information.
"Oh, yes, that brings back another memory of Lili," said the mother with a smile. "She did this one day as we were both imagining how beautiful it would be to be in paradise. She suddenly grew so furious at Eve for having eaten the apple that she scratched her face in the picture with a pencil for punishment. But my old poem! I am afraid I can't puzzle it out any more," said the mother after trying to study the broken sentences. "It is so dreadfully long ago. Just think, children, over thirty years!"
The mother laid the paper, carefully folded, in her workbasket and asked the children to pick up their things and follow her, as it would soon be time for supper. As they knew well that their papa was always punctual, they quickly packed up their things and one after the other disappeared into the house through the triumphal arch, which had been left standing.
Dora had been watching the quiet group under the apple tree for quite a while through the hole in the hedge. As everybody got up and slowly went away, she had the chance to examine one child after another. When they were all gone, Dora heaved a deep sigh and said to herself, "If only I could be allowed to go over there, just once."
At supper, Aunt Ninette said, "At last, we have had a few quiet hours! What a relief! If this keeps on, we might possibly remain here. What do you think, dear Titus?"
Dora waited anxiously for her uncle's answer.
"The air is very heavy in these rooms, and I feel even more dizzy than I did in Karlsruhe," declared the uncle.
Dora dropped her eyes to her plate and her appetite was gone.
The aunt broke out into loud wails now. Should the whole journey and their stay here prove absolutely useless after all? Should they have moved the very first day? She found consolation at last in the thought that the family opposite had quieted down, and that the windows could be opened by tomorrow. Dora clung to this hope, for as long as she lived so near, a possibility remained that she might go and play, at least a single time, with the children in their fragrant garden.
BEFORE AND AFTER THE DELUGE
IT HAPPENED quite often that nobody had time to play with little Hun, and he himself found nothing on earth to do. At such times, he would wander aimlessly all through the house, bothering everyone at their work. His mother always sent him to his little table and wanted him to keep busy there. The boy would then be very unhappy and troublesome. He often chose the most inconvenient moments for these restless moods, when everybody was especially busy.
The day following the events just related was a Saturday, when the house was being cleaned and the furniture blocked all the hallways. Hun wandered about among the chairs and sofas and seemed in just as unsettled a state as was the house.
After looking for his mother everywhere, he succeeded in finding her on the top floor of the house, sorting the clean laundry, but she sent him downstairs again with the words, "I am very busy now, Hun. Go and look for Paula; she may have time for you." He found Paula at the piano.
"Go away, Hun! I have to practise and can't guess your stupid charades," she said to her little brother, who had caught the fatal fever from Rolf. He was most anxious to say his own charade about the nutcracker and was terribly disappointed not to have the chance. "Here's Miss Hanenwinkel, go to her," said Paula.
"Miss Hanenwinkel, my first one cannot drink, but eat," the little one cried as soon as he saw the governess.
"No, Hun, please spare me," the governess hurriedly interrupted him. "I do not know what will happen if you begin it, too. I have no time. Look, Mr. Jul is just getting down from his horse over there; go to him."
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"COME, I'LL SAY IT AND YOU MUST LEARN IT BY HEART."
The little one wandered off.
"Jul, nobody wants to guess my riddles, Miss Hanenwinkel least of all," he complained to his big brother. "She said you ought to do it."
"Did she say so? All right, then, say it," Jul encouraged him.
"My first you can't drink, but eat," began Hun, and stopped.
"All right, keep on, Hun!"
"You have to make the rest, Jul; but the whole must be nutcracker," said the little boy.
"I can see that quite clearly; but because Miss Hanenwinkel has sent me a riddle to guess through you, I'll send her one, too. Come, I'll say it and you must learn it by heart. Then you can go and ask Miss Hanenwinkel to solve it for you."
Standing the little one in front of him, Jul said several times quite slowly:
"When like my first Hun's crow, disturbs all menInto the second does the whole put thenThe naughty culprit, saying, 'See you again.'" *
Before very long, the small boy had memorized the lines and eagerly ran off to serve them up to the governess.
The latter sat in the schoolroom, trying to explain a problem in arithmetic to the twins. This proved a hard task today. The two were dreadfully absent-minded. Just then Hun came into the room.
"A charade, Miss Hanenwinkel," he announced at once.
* Hanenwinkel translated into English means Rooster-corner.
"But I won't let you say it now. This is no time for such nonsense," said the governess, firmly. But as Jul was the originator this time, the little boy grew quite audacious. Without swerving, he declared several times:
"It's Jul's charade, Jul made it up."
"Then say it quickly," said the governess, visibly relenting. The boy distinctly recited his riddle.
Miss Hanenwinkel, who came from Bremen, did not like to be left behind and was always quick in replies. Immediately sitting down at the table, she took up pen and paper and wrote:
"My first's the time for nuts, my whole then findsMuch pleasure in them, for at once he grindsThem up between his teeth; but we can't see,That there's much of my second in this. For he,My whole, that is, throws shells upon the floorAnd makes us tumble on them at the door."
"Take this to Mr. Jul," she said, giving the little one the paper, "and tell him I refuse to be beaten. As long as he has turned my name so nicely into a charade, I am sending him one, too. But don't come in again, Hun. We must work hard, and another disturbance might be fatal."
Willi and Lili were less afraid of a disturbance, and it was quite visible that the recent interruption had already had the dreaded effect. While the governess had been talking to their brother, the twins had moved their heads closer and closer together, apparently deep in making plans. These had proved so absorbing that they could not even remember the simplest sums, and Miss Hanenwinkel found herself obliged to shut her book with a deep sigh. She remarked in conclusion, that if each number represented some foolish exploit, Willi and Lili would grasp them all.
This opinion of the governess was not without foundation, because the twins seemed especially gifted for such exploits. Apparently a scheme of this kind was in their heads now, and as soon as the lesson was done, they rushed enterprisingly towards the laundry. Here they had a secret consultation opposite all the washtubs in the place.
At table, Jul pulled out a sheet of paper and asked, "Who can guess a fine riddle Miss Hanenwinkel has composed?" After which he read it.
He was hardly finished when Rolf cried out the answer, "Julius and by rights Yule-use."
It was the right solution. Miss Hanenwinkel, however, did not read her riddle, because she did not wish to have her peculiarity discussed and laughed at.
After dinner, Willi and Lili ran to the laundry again, for it was Saturday afternoon and they were free to do what they pleased. Miss Hanenwinkel had meant to watch the children, but seeing them enter the laundry, she supposed they were going to wash some doll's clothing, a favorite occupation of theirs. She was glad they had found something to keep them busy for at least a couple of hours.
But Willi and Lili had an idea which reached far beyond a mere doll wash. While playing with their new Noah's ark they had entered so deeply into the miraculous existence of the people and animals in the ark that Lili conceived the brilliant idea of executing a trip in the ark themselves. She carefully thought out everything necessary for such a journey, and being alert and practical, she knew quite well how to do it.
Among the washtubs, the twins selected one of medium size for the ark, one just big enough to hold them and the animals if everybody kept nice and quiet.
Schnurri and Philomele were to represent the animals in the ark, and the first thing the children did, was catch hold of the two pets so necessary to their idea. Schnurri followed the call with a growl, while Philomele rubbed her soft fur against Lili's legs so caressingly that the little girl picked her up tenderly saying, "You really are much nicer than Schnurri, dear Philomele."
Philomele had gotten her name because she mewed very melodiously, and Schnurri his, because he grunted and growled so much. But there was a cause for this. The two had been commanded to live in harmony together and to do each other no harm. Schnurri punctually obeyed these instructions by always being peaceful and considerate towards Philomele. While they were having dinner from the same dish, he ate very slowly, knowing that the cat with her tiny mouth could not eat as fast, as he. Philomele was always pleasant towards the dog when anyone was watching, but when nobody was around, she frequently lifted her paw and gave him a treacherous blow behind the ear. This would make Schnurri growl, and as this happened very often, he growled nearly all the time. He had gotten his name unjustly, because he was by nature a peace-loving and friendly creature.
For the trip in the ark, some water was necessary. Lili knew that on wash days a long wooden funnel or pipe was laid under the fountain outside and into the tub, which made the latter fill with water. She had planned to let the water flow from the wooden funnel to the floor of the laundry where the washtub always stood. In that way the floor would be gradually covered with water and finally the tub would be lifted up, representing the swimming ark. All this was carefully planned, and only the long funnel which was necessary for that manoeuvre had to be secured.
Willi and Lili could not quite decide whether it was wiser to ask Battist or Trine for help.
Old Battist and young Trine stood in practically the same relationship as Schnurri and Philomele. Battist had served many years in the household, and knowing about everything, had a word to say about all the management of the house and stable, as well as the garden and the fields. The universal respect shown to the old man annoyed Trine, who felt that regard was due to her, too. If she had not served the family very long yet, her aunt had lived in the Birkenfeld household so many years that she had actually become too old to work and was resting from her labors now. Trine had taken her place and was decidedly jealous of old Battist's authority, which she herself did not recognize at all. She behaved very decently to the old man before the family, but teased him as soon as they turned their backs, just as Philomele did with Schnurri.
The children knew this, and often made use of this state of affairs for their own private ends. Willi and Lili felt that Trine would be more willing to lend them aid than the old gardener, who never much approved of extraordinary schemes. But the needed funnel came under his especial sceptre, and therefore Lili decided to ask the old man's assistance, while Willi held on to Schnurri and the cat. Finding Battist on the threshing-floor sorting out seeds, Lili stood herself in front of him with her hands back of her, taking the identical attitude her father always took when talking with his workmen.
"Battist," she began energetically, "where is the funnel which is used in the laundry for filling the washtubs with water?"
Battist looked at Lili from his seeds, as if anxious to weigh her question. Then he asked deliberately, "Did your mamma send you here?"
"No, she didn't send me, I want it myself," explained Lili.
"I see; then I don't know where the funnel is," retorted Battist.
"But Battist," Lili commenced again, "I only want a little water from the spring fountain. Why can't I have it?"
"I know you two small birds," growled Battist. "Once a little bit of fire and then a little bit of water, and finally some dreadful mishap. You can't have it this time, you can't have it."
"Then I don't care," sulked Lili, and went at once to the kitchen where Trine was sweeping the floor.
"Trine," said the little girl pleasantly, "won't you come and give us the funnel for the fountain? Battist is horrid, he won't even give it to us for a second. But you will let us have it, won't you, Trine?"
"Of course," replied Trine. "I don't see why you shouldn't have a little bit of water. But you'll have to wait until the old bear goes away. Then I'll go with you."
After a while Trine saw Battist walking across the yard towards the fields.
"Come, now," she said, taking Lili's hand in hers and running to the laundry.
She pulled out the pipe from its hiding place, laid one end under the spigot and the other into a small tub. Then she explained to Lili how to take the pipe away when the bucket was full enough. She and Willi could do this quite well themselves and when they needed more water they could put it back. Trine had to go back to her work now.
When the maid left, they were ready to start on their excursion. After the pipe was laid on the floor, Lili climbed in, followed by Willi, and Philomele was lifted and Schnurri was pulled inside. Noah and his wife sat in their beautiful ark now, grateful over their delivery and joyful over their trip on the rising floods. The water from the fountain was steadily flowing into the laundry, and all of a sudden the ark was lifted and began to float. Noah and his wife screamed with delight. They had really succeeded in their plans, the ark actually swam about on real waves.
Several high stone steps led down into the laundry, and it therefore held a large quantity of water. The water rose steadily higher and higher, and the children began to feel a little frightened.
"Look, Willi, we won't be able to get out any more," said Lili, "it's getting higher all the time."
Willi looked out thoughtfully over the edge of the tub and said, "If it gets much higher, we'll have to drown."
Of course it kept on getting higher and higher.
Schnurri was beginning to get restless, too, and by jumping about, threatened to upset the washtub. It rocked violently to and fro. The water by that time was so deep that the children could not possibly climb out again, and seized by a sudden panic, they began to shriek with all their might: "We are drowning, we are drowning! Mamma! Mamma! Battist! Trine! We are drowning!"
Finally, instead of words, they just frantically screeched and yelled. Schnurri barked and growled from sympathy, while Philomele revealed her true character, and began to bite and scratch, while meowing loudly. Philomele refused to go into the water, neither would she stay in the tub. Instead, she went on crazily and scratched the children whenever she could. But when the faithful Schnurri saw that no assistance was coming in answer to their cries, he jumped into the water with a big leap. He swam towards the door, gave himself a shake and ran away. But the children yelled worse than ever now, for Schnurri had nearly upset the tub in jumping out.
Dora had long ago run down to her hole in the hedge to see what was the cause of the pitiful cries.
The laundry stood close to the hedge, but she could see nothing but a funnel through which water flowed into the laundry. But she heard their cries about drowning and turning about, she ran upstairs again.
"Aunt Ninette," she cried breathlessly, "two children are drowning over there. Don't you hear them, don't you hear them?"
The aunt had heard the yells, despite her tightly barred windows.
"Oh, gracious, what does it mean?" cried the affrighted aunt. "Of course, I heard the awful noise, but who is drowning, I wonder? Mrs. Kurd! Mrs. Kurd! Mrs. Kurd!" Meanwhile, the soaked dog ran in big leaps towards the coachhouse, where Battist was cutting bean poles. Schnurri rushed up to him, pulled his trousers, barked violently, then tried to pull Battist along again, howling incessantly.
"Something is up," said Battist, and putting one of the poles on his shoulder, he said to himself, "One can never tell what may be useful."
Herewith, he followed Schnurri, who gaily preceded him to the washhouse. By that time, the mother, the governess, Paula, Rolf and Hun, and at last Trine had assembled, as the awful noise had penetrated into every nook and corner of the house and garden. Battist at once held his long pole out over the floods towards the tub.
"Take hold of it tight and don't let it go!" he called to the children, and after drawing the whole ark towards him, he lifted the inmates onto dry land.
Willi and Lili were so scared and white that they had to recover a little before being examined about their exploit. Taking each by the hand, their mother led them to the bench under the apple tree and gave them a chance to revive a little.
Jul, leading the small Hun by the hand, followed and said, "Oh, you terrible twins, some day you will both come to a terrible end."
With trousers turned up, old Battist had stepped into the deluge, and had opened all the vents for draining to let the floods disperse. To Trine, who stood beside him, he said pityingly, "It only happened because you have no more sense than the seven-year-olds!"
He knew quite well who had fetched the funnel. Trine, realizing that she had been duped, could give no answer, but like Philomele, got ready to scratch her adversary.
When everybody sat safe and sound again under the apple tree, Philomele came up to Lili, tenderly meowing and rubbing against the girl's legs. But the child pushed her away, and instead she and Willi tenderly stroked the wet Schnurri, who lay at their feet on the ground. The twins secretly resolved to give Schnurri their whole supper that night, for in their great extremity, they had found out the true character of their pets.
After thoughtfully gazing at the rescued twins for a while, the small Hun joined Jul, who was wandering to and fro on the gravel path.
"Jul," said the little one solemnly, "tell me in what way the terrible twins could come to a fearful end?"
"They might do it in different ways, Hun," replied Jul, standing still. "You see they have already tried fire and water. In some excited mood, they may next pull down the house over our heads. Then we'll all be lying underneath, and everything will be over."
"Can't we quickly jump away?" asked little Hun, concerned.
"We can, if they don't do it in the middle of the night."
"Please wake me up then," Hun implored his brother.
Mrs. Kurd had come in answer to Aunt Ninette's repeated cries at the identical moment when Battist was pulling the ark to safety and the cries had stopped.
"Did you hear it, Mrs. Kurd? Wasn't it terrible? But everything is quiet now. Do you suppose they were saved?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Kurd calmly. "The little ones were just screaming a little, and there can't have been any real danger."
"I never heard such shrieks, and I am still trembling in all my limbs. Oh, I wonder how your uncle stood it, Dora. This is the end, I fear, Mrs. Kurd, and we have had enough. Nothing can keep us from moving now."
With this Aunt Ninette stepped into her husband's room to see how he had taken the last disturbance. Mr. Titus did not even hear his wife's entrance, for he had stuffed cotton into his ears when the noise penetrated even through the closed windows. Afterwards, he calmly kept on writing.
"For goodness' sake, Titus! That is dreadfully unhealthy and heats your head," wailed his wife, upon noticing her husband's ears. Quickly taking out the cotton, she told him what she had resolved to do. Tomorrow, after the morning service, she was going to pay a call on the village rector and ask his advice about another lodging. After what had happened they could not stay. It was too much to put up with.
Mr. Titus agreed to everything she said, and Aunt Ninette went to her room to enlarge further upon the scheme.
Dora stood in the corridor listening to her.
"Are we really going away, Aunt Ninette?" she asked timidly, as soon as her uncle's door was shut.
"Surely!" the woman answered. "We expect to leave the house on Monday."
Dora slipped into her little room and sat down on her bed. She was completely cast down by the thought of leaving without having even once met the children in the lovely garden. She thought how dreary it would be to go back to Karlsruhe, where she would have to sew shirts again and could no longer watch the merry life of the jolly children.
From sheer grief, Dora's eyes were so cast down that she could not see her five bright stars gleaming down to her. They seemed to be calling, "Dora, Dora! Have you forgotten your father's words completely?"
A TERRIBLE DEED
THE weather Sunday was very fair and the garden lay peaceful and quiet in the sunlight. Nothing could be heard except the occasional thump of a falling apple, which had begun to ripen. The parents had gone to church with Paula and Miss Hanenwinkel and Jul and Hun sat peacefully before a great bowl of hazelnuts, discussing the different ways in which the nutcracker could open nuts. Willi and Lili, after the instructive experience of the day before, had come back to their ark with the wooden men and ladies and sat in the schoolroom where they were allowed to spread their toys over the large table. Rolf had run to a lonely little summerhouse in a distant corner of the garden in order to be undisturbed at different studies he was interested in.
When the deluge, which had to proceed this time without any water, had lasted a long time, and the dove had returned with the olive branch, Lili grew tired of the game and cast about for something new.
"Come down stairs, Willi," she proposed. "Let's look at Rolf's bow and arrow. He put it in the hall yesterday."
Willi, quite ready for a change of occupation, hastened downstairs after his twin sister, who knew the exact spot where Rolf had put the bow and the quiver full of feathered arrows.
"It must be great fun to shoot with it," said Lili. "I watched Rolf doing it. You pull the string back and lay the arrow on it; then you let go of the string and the arrow flies away. Let's try it, Willi."
"But we are not allowed to do it. Don't you remember papa saying we mustn't?" answered Willi.
"I don't actually mean to shoot. We'll just try a little how it works," suggested Lili.
This tempted Willi very much.
"But where shall we try it? There is too little room in the hall," he said.
"Of course not here; I know a good place, for it in the garden," she cried, running out with the arrow towards an open space near, the hedge. Willi eagerly followed with the bow.
"Here is a good place," said Lili, "let's both try it together."
Willi stuck the bow into the ground and both pulled the string back as hard as they could. When they succeeded in tightening the string, Lili jubilated loudly.
"Now lift up the bow," she directed her brother, "put on the arrow like that and pull this thing here back. You'll see what fun it is! Try it, Willi."
The boy pulled hard, and the arrow went whirring through the hedge. That same moment, they heard a cry of pain in the little garden beyond. Then everything was still.