Churi in his hiding-place was about to burst with anger because Erick stopped seeking.  He had hoped that Erick would exhaust himself looking for him, for Churi had climbed up the high pear-tree which stood in the centre of their playground, and from there he could overlook Erick’s inactivity and his stubborn resistance to being moved.  Kaetheli too had become impatient, for in the farthest corner of the goat-shed, whither she had crawled, she felt herself secure from being found, and now, all at once, she discovered that there was no more seeking, and she could easily guess the cause.  With a good deal of trouble she crawled out again, with many signs of her hiding-place on her dress for she had been obliged to sit crouched.  She ran to Erick, who was still in the same spot, near the harmonica player.

“I should like to know what is the matter with you,” she called out.  “Every evening, just when we have the greatest fun, all at once you run away like a hare, or you stand there like a statue and let everything go as it will.  But that will not do!  Come and seek us.  But first I must hide again.”

The tones of the harmonica had just stopped and the boy had gone.  Erick took a deep breath and said:  “I cannot play any more.  I must go home.”

He turned away and went; but that annoyed Kaetheli.  She ran after him and talked angrily at him.  “That is not nice of you, Erick; you need not have done that.  You have spoiled the game now four or five times—­that is surely not kind of you, do you think it is?” They had by this time arrived at Marianne’s cottage.  Erick stopped at the hedge and turned round.  He said, quite friendly:  “Do not be angry, Kaetheli, you see I have to act so.”

“Yes, but why?  Tell me now, what you do and why you have to spoil everything?” demanded Kaetheli, rather huffed, for she could not yet get over the fact that she had crawled all for nothing into the incomparable hiding-place in the goat-shed.

“I will tell you, Kaetheli, for you must not think that I purposely spoil everything for you.  I did not think of that,” said Erick, excusing himself.  “Do you see, there is a beautiful song which my mother sang every day, and also on the last day, and I should so much like to hear that song again.  But no one sings it, and I may listen wherever I like, I hear only other things.  Oh, if I could only hear that song again, just once!”

Now Kaetheli saw how Erick’s eyes filled with big tears, and in an instant her anger turned into pity.  “You must not be sad on that account, for I can help you,” she said readily.  “I know so many songs; tell me what the name of yours is, then I will say it to you right away.”

“I try to remember it all the time, but I cannot get the words together; but I remember well the melody.  Do you think you could guess the words, if I sing the melody?”

“Of course I can, you just sing on,” encouraged Kaetheli, with confidence.