"Yes, my dear child. It is entirely out of the question for you and your brother to live there. I should not tell you this if I were not absolutely certain, and you can imagine that I should not shatter such a hope if I did not have to."

It hurt Mrs. Maxa very much to say this, but she found it necessary.

She knew that Apollonie in her measureless love and admiration would never be able to refuse a single one of Leonore's wishes, even if it meant the impossible.

"I shall not think about it any more then," said Leonore, embracing Mrs.

Maxa with utter confidence, "and I shall be glad now that I can still remain with you."

Later that evening when the children were all together and Leonore had conquered her grief for that day, a letter came for their mother from Hanover. She had informed the ladies of Leonore's complete recovery and had added that the doctor thought it necessary for the child to enjoy the strengthening mountain air for a while longer. She herself had no other wish than to keep Leonore in her house as long as possible. The ladies'

answer was full of warm thanks for her great help in their embarra.s.sing situation. They were very glad to accept her great kindness for two more weeks, after which one of them would come to fetch Leonore home.

Mrs. Maxa glanced with a heavy heart at the child to whom she had grown as devoted as to her own. She felt dreadfully sad at the thought of letting her go away so soon. The worst of it was that she knew the ladies' abode had never really meant a home for poor Leonore. It only doubled her grief to know how hard it would be for the child to leave her, but as she had no right over her, she could do nothing. The only thing she could plan was to ask the ladies to let her have Leonore sometimes during the summer holidays. She decided not to dampen the children's good spirits that evening with the discouraging news in the letter.

CHAPTER VIII

MaZLI PAYS VISITS

Whenever Mazli found the time heavy on her hands, she would suddenly remember people who might want to see her. She had been extremely occupied all these days entertaining Leonore, as during school hours she had been the older girl's sole companion. Her brothers and sisters were now home for a holiday and constantly surrounded Leonore. Finding herself without her usual employment, Mazli ran after her mother on the morning of the holiday and kept on saying, "I must go to see Apollonie.

I am sure Loneli is sad that I have not been to see her so long," until her mother finally gave her permission to go that afternoon.

On her way to Apollonie Mazli had been struck by an idea which occupied her very much. She arrived at the cottage of her old friend and sat down beside Loneli, who was not in the least sad, but looked about her with the merriest eyes. "I must go see the Castle-Steward to-day," she said quickly. "I promised it but I forgot about it."

"No, no, Mazli," Apollonie said evasively, "we have lots of other things to do. We have to see if the plums are getting ripe on the tree in the corner of the garden, and after that you must see the chickens. Just think, Mazli, they have little chicks, and you will have to see them. I am sure you won't ever want to leave them."

"Oh, yes, when I have seen them I must go to the Castle-Steward because I promised to," Mazli replied.

"I am sure he has forgotten all about it and does not remember you any more," Apollonie said, trying to ward Mazli off from her design. "Does your mama know that you mean to go to the castle?"

"No, because I only thought of it on my way here," Mazli a.s.sured her old friend. "But one must always keep a promise; Kurt told me that."

"Mr. Trius won't even let you in," Apollonie protested.

"Certainly! He has to. I know the Castle-Steward well, and he is not in the least afraid of Mr. Trius; I have noticed that," said Mazli, firmly holding to her resolution.

Apollonie realized that words would do no good and resolved to entertain Mazli so well with the little chickens and other things that it would finally be too late for her to go to the castle. Mazli inspected the tiny chickens and the ripening plums with great enjoyment, but as this had barely taken any time at all, she soon said resolutely, "I have to go now because it is late. If you would like to stay home, Loneli can come with me. I am sure we can easily find the way."

"What are you dreaming of, Mazli?" Apollonie cried out. "How do you think Mr. Trius would receive you if you ask him to let you in, I should like to know? You'll find out something you won't like, I am afraid. No, no, this can't be. If you insist on going, I had better go along."

Apollonie went indoors to get ready for the walk, as she always put on better clothes whenever she mounted to the castle, despite the fact that she might not see anyone. Loneli was extremely eager to have a chance to find out who was the Castle-Steward whom Mazli had promised to visit.

She had tried to persuade her grandmother to let her go with Mazli, in which case her mother would not need to change her clothes, But the latter would not even hear of it, remarking, "You can sit on the bench under the pear tree with your knitting in the meantime, and you can sing a song. We are sure to be back again in a little while."

Soon they started off, Apollonie firmly holding Mazli's hand. Mr. Trius appeared at the door before they even had time to ring; it seemed as if the man really had his eyes on everything. Throwing a furious glance at Mazli, he opened the door before Apollonie had said a word. But he had taken great care to leave a crack which would only allow a little person like Mazli to slip through without sticking fast in the opening. Mazli wriggled through and started to run away. The next moment the door was closed again. "Do you think I intend to squeeze myself through, too? You do not need to bolt it, Mr. Trius," Apollonie said, much offended. "It is not necessary to cut off the child from me like that, so that I don't even know where she is going. I am taking care of her, remember. Won't you please let me in, for I want to watch her, that is all."

"Forbidden," said Mr. Trius.

"Why did you let the child in?"

"I was ordered to."

"What? You were ordered to? By the master?" cried out Apollonie. "Oh, Mr. Trius, how could he let the child go in and walk about the garden while his old servant is kept out? She ought to be in there looking after things. I am sure you have never told him how I have come to you, come again and again and have begged you to admit me. I want to put things into their old order and you don't want me to. You don't even know, apparently, which bed he has and if his pillows are properly covered.

You said so yourself. I am sure that the good old Baroness would have no peace in her grave if she knew all this. And this is all your fault. I can clearly see that. I can tell you one thing, though! If you refuse to give my messages to the master as I have begged and begged you to so often, I'll find another way. I'll write a letter."

"Won't help."

"What won't help? How can you know that? You won't know what's in the letter. I suppose the Baron still reads his own letters," Apollonie eagerly went on.

"He receives no letters from these parts."

This was a terrible blow for Apollonie, to whom this new thought had given great confidence. She therefore decided to say nothing more and quietly watched Mr. Trius as he walked up and down inside the garden.

Mazli in the meantime had eagerly pursued her way and was soon up on the terrace. Glancing about from there, she saw the gentleman again, stretched out in the shadow of the pine tree, as she had seen him first, and the glinting cover was lying again on his knees. Mazli ran over to him.

"How do you do, Mr. Castle-Steward? Are you angry with me because I have not come for so long?" she called out to him from a distance, and a moment later she was by his side. "It was only on account of Leonore,"

Mazli continued. "I should otherwise have come ages ago. But when the others are all in school she can't be left alone. So I stay with her and I like to do it because she is so nice. Everybody likes Leonore, everybody likes her terribly; Kurt and Bruno, too. They stay home all the time now because Leonore is with us. You ought to know how nice she is. You would like her dreadfully right away."

"Do you think so?" said the gentleman, while something like a smile played about his lips. "Is it your sister?"

"My sister? No, indeed," Mazli said, quite astonished at his error. "She is Salo's sister, the boy who was with us and who had to go back to Hanover. She has to go back to Hanover, too, as soon as she is well, and mama always gets very sad when she talks about it. But Mea gets sadder still and even cries. Leonore hates to leave us, but she has to. She cried dreadfully once because she can never, never have a home. As long as she lives she'll have to be homeless. The beggar-woman who came with the two ragged children said that. They were homeless, and Leonore said afterwards, 'I am that way, too,' and then she cried terribly, and we were sent out into the garden. She might have cried still more if she had thought about our having a home with a mama while she has none. She has no papa or anybody. But you must not think that she is a homeless child with a torn dress; she looks quite different. Maybe she can find a home in Apollonie's little house under the hill. Then Salo can come home to her in the holidays. But mama does not think that this can be. But Leonore wants it ever so much. I must bring her to you one day."

"Who are you, child? What is your name," asked the gentleman abruptly.

Mazli looked at him in astonishment.

"I am Mazli," she said, "and mama has the same name as I have. But they don't call her that. Some people call her Mrs. Rector, some mama, and Uncle Philip says Maxa to her and Leonore calls her Aunt Maxa."

"Is your father the rector of Nolla?" the gentleman asked.

"He has been in heaven a long while, and he was in heaven before we came here, but mama wanted to come back to Nolla because this was her home.

We don't live in the rectory now, but where there is a garden with lots of paths, and where the big currant-bushes are in the corners, here and here and here." Mazli traced the position of the bushes exactly on the lionskin. The castle-steward, leaning back in his chair, said nothing more. "Do you find it very tiresome here?" Mazli asked sympathetically.

"Yes, I do," was the answer.

"Have you no picture-book"

"No."

"Oh, I'll bring you one, as soon as I come again. And then--but perhaps you have a headache?" Mazli interrupted herself. "When my mama wrinkles up her forehead the way you do she always has a headache, and one must get her some cold water to make it better. I'll quickly get some," and the next instant Mazli was gone.

"Come back, child!" the gentleman called after her. "There is n.o.body in the castle, and you won't find any."

It seemed strange to Mazli that there should be n.o.body to bring water to the Castle-Steward.

"I'll find somebody for him," she said, eagerly running down the incline to the door, in whose vicinity Mr. Trius was wandering up and down.

"You are to go up to the Castle-Steward at once," she said standing still in front of him, "and you are to bring him some cold water, because he has a headache. But very quickly."

Mr. Trius glanced at Mazli in an infuriated way as if to say: "How do you dare to come to me like this?" Then throwing the door wide open he growled like a cross bear: "Out of here first, so I can close it." After Mazli had slipped out he banged the big door with all his might so that the hinges rattled. Turning the monstrous key twice in the lock, he also bolted it with a vengeance. By this he meant to show that no one could easily go in again at his pleasure.