“Oh, how merry the dear children are, to be sure,” and when Aunt Ninette went on to explain that such disturbances were the very worst thing for her poor invalid, the hostess only again recommended the walk in the woods for quiet and fresh air!  The noise in the next house would not last long, she said, the young gentleman would soon return to college, and it would be much more quiet then.  As she spoke, the sound of Lili’s merry music came across through the open window on the morning breeze.

“And that too, is that the work of the young gentleman, who will soon return to college?” asked Mrs. Ehrenreich excitedly.  “It is unendurable; continually some new noise or tumult or uproar.  What do you say to this last, Mrs. Kurd?”

“I never have thought of it as noise,” said the good woman simply, “the dear child is making such progress with her music, it is a pleasure to hear her.”

“And Dora, where can Dora be?  Is she bewitched too?  It is time for her to begin her sewing; where can she be?  Dora!  Dora!  Have you gone into the garden again?”

Aunt Ninette’s voice was querulous and excited.  To be sure, Dora had crept down again to peer through her opening in the hedge, and she was now listening as if enchanted, to Lili’s gay music.  She came back at once at the sound of her aunt’s voice, and took her appointed place at the window where she was to sit and sew all day.

“Well, we cannot stay here, that is certain,” said Mrs. Ehrenreich as she left the room.

The tears started to Dora’s eyes at these words.  She did so long to remain here, where she could hear and partly see now and then, the merry healthy life of these children in the beautiful garden beyond the hedge.  It was her only knowledge of true child-life.  As she sewed, she was planning and puzzling her brain with plans for prolonging their stay, but could think of nothing that seemed likely to be of use.

It was now eleven o’clock.  Rolf came scampering home from his recitations, and catching sight of his mother through the open door of the kitchen, he ran to her, calling out before he reached the threshold, “Mamma, mamma, now guess.  My first—­”

“My dear Rolf” interrupted his mother, “I beg of you to find some one else to guess.  I have not time now, truly.  Go find Paula, she has just gone into the sitting-room.”

Rolf obeyed.

“Paula,” he called out, “My first—­”

“No, Rolf, please, not just now, I am looking for my blank-book to write my French translation in.  There is Miss Hanenwinkel, she is good at guessing, ask her.”

“Miss Hanenwinkel,” cried poor Rolf, pouncing upon her, “My first—­”

“Not a moment, not a second, Rolf,” said the governess hastily.  “There is Mr. Julius over there in the corner, letting the little one crack nuts for him.  He is not busy; I am.  Good-bye, I’ll see you again.”

Miss Hanenwinkel had been in England, and had taken a great fancy to this form of expression much in vogue there, and she constantly used it as a form of farewell, whether it was apropos or not.  Thus she would say to the persistent scissors-grinder, who came to the door,