Maezli — 02 - Divers Worries

DIVERS WORRIES

Before the mother went off to church on Sunday morning she always glanced into the living-room to see if the children were quietly settled at their different occupations and to hope that everything would remain in order during her absence.

When she looked in to-day everything was peaceful.

Bruno and Mea were both sitting in a corner lost in a book, Kurt had spread out his drawings on a table before him, and Lippo and Mäzli were building on their small table a beautiful town with churches, towers and large palaces.

The mother was thoroughly satisfied and went away.

For awhile everything was still.

A bright ray of sunshine fell over Kurt's drawing and gaily played about on the paper.

Kurt, looking up, saw how the meadows were sparkling outside.

"The two rascally milk-spillers from yesterday ought to be locked up for the whole day," Kurt suddenly exploded.

Mea apparently had been busy with the same thought for she assented very eagerly.

The two talked over the whole affair anew and had to give vent to their indignation about the scoundrels and their pity for poor Loneli.

Mäzli must have found the conversation entertaining, for glancing over to the others, she let Lippo place the blocks whichever way he pleased, something that very seldom happened.

Only when the children said no more she came back to her task.

"Goodness gracious!"

Kurt exclaimed suddenly, starting up from his drawing; "you ought to have reminded me, Mea, that we have to bring some clothes to school for the poor people whose houses were burnt up.

You heard it, but mother does not even know about it yet."

"I forgot it, too," said Mea quietly, continuing to read.

"Mother knows about it long ago.

I told her right away," Lippo declared.

"Teacher told us to be sure not to forget."

"Quite right, little school fox," Kurt replied, while he calmly kept on drawing.

As long as his mother knew about the matter he did not need to bother any more.

But the last words had interested Mäzli very much.

Throwing together the houses, towers and churches she said to Lippo, "Come, Lippo, I know something amusing we can do which will please mama, too."

Lippo wondered what that could be, but he first laid every block neatly away in the big box and did not let Mäzli hurry him in the least.

"Don't do it that way," Mäzli called out impatiently.

"Throw them all in and put on the lid.

Then it's all done."

"One must not do that, Mäzli; no one must do it that way," Lippo said seriously.

"One ought to put in the first block and pack it before one takes up the second."

"Then I won't wait for you," Mäzli declared, rapidly whisking out by the door.

When Lippo had properly filled the box and set it in its right place, he quickly followed Mäzli, wondering what her plan was.

But he could find her nowhere, neither in the hall nor in the garden, and he got no answer to his loud, repeated calls.

Finally a reply came which sounded strangely muffled, as if from up above, so he went up and into her bedroom.

There Mäzli was sitting in the middle of a heap of clothes, her head thrust far into a wardrobe.

Apparently she was still pulling out more things.

"You certainly are doing something wonderful," said Lippo, glancing with his big eyes at the clothes on the floor.

"I am doing the right thing," said Mäzli now in the most decided tone.

"Kurt has said that we must send the poor people some clothes, so we must take them all out and lay together everything we don't need any more.

Mama will be glad when she has no more to do about it and they can be sent away to-morrow.

Now get your things, too, and we'll put them all in a heap."

The matter, however, seemed still rather doubtful to Lippo.

Standing thoughtfully before all the little skirts and jackets, he felt that this would not be quite after his mother's wish.

"When we want to do something with our clothes, we always have to ask mother," he began again.

But Mäzli did not answer and only pulled out a bunch of woolen stockings and a heavy winter cloak, spreading everything on the floor.

"No, I won't do it," said Lippo again, after scrutinizing the unusual performance.

"You don't want to do it because you are afraid it will be too much work," Mäzli asserted with a face quite red with zeal.

"I'll help you when I am done here."

"I won't do it anyhow," Lippo repeated resolutely; "I won't because we are not allowed to."

Mäzli found no time to persuade him further, as she began to hunt for her heavy winter shoes, which were still in the wardrobe.

But before she had brought them forth to the light, the door opened and the mother was looking full of horror at the devastation.

"But children, what a horrible disorder!"

she cried out, "and on Sunday morning, too.

What has made you do it?

What is this wild dry-goods shop on the floor?"

"Now, you see, Mäzli," said Lippo, not without showing great satisfaction at having so clearly proved that he had been in the right.

Mäzli tried with all her might to prove to her mother that her intention had solely been to save her the work necessary to get the things together.

But the mother now explained decidedly to the little girl that she never needed to undertake such actions in the future as she could not possibly judge which clothes she still needed and which could be given away.

Mäzli was also told that such help on her part only resulted in double work for her mother.

"Besides I can see Mäzli," the mother concluded, "that your great zeal seems to come from a wish to get rid of all the things you don't like to wear yourself.

All your woolen things, which you always say scratch your skin.

So you do not mind if other children have them, Mäzli?"

"They might like them better than to be cold," was Mäzli's opinion.

"Oh, mother, Mrs. Knippel is coming up the road toward our house; I am sure she is coming to see us," said Lippo, who had gone to the window.

"And I have not even taken my things off on account of your disorder here," said the mother a little frightened.

"Mäzli, go and greet Mrs. Knippel and take her into the front room.

Tell her that I have just come from church and that I shall come directly."

Mäzli ran joyfully away; the errand seemed to please her.

She received the guest with excellent manners and led her into the front room to the sofa, for Mäzli knew exactly the way her mother always did.

Then she gave her mother's message.

"Very well, very well, And what do you want to do on this beautiful Sunday?"

the lady asked, "Take a walk," Mäzli answered rapidly.

"Are they still locked up?"

she then casually asked.

"Who?

Who?

Whom do you mean?"

and the lady looked somewhat disapprovingly at the little girl.

"Edwin and Eugen," Mäzli answered fearlessly.

"I should like to know where you get such ideas," the lady said with growing irritation.

"I should like to know why the boys should be locked up."

"Because they are so mean to Loneli all the time," Mäzli declared.

The mother entered now.

To her friendly greeting she only received a very cold reply.

"I only wonder, Mrs. Rector," the guest began immediately in an irritated manner, "what meanness that little poison-toad of a Loneli has spread and invented about my boys.

But I wonder still more that some people should believe such things."

Mrs. Maxa was very much astonished that her visitor should have already heard what had taken place the night before, as she knew that her sons would not speak of it of their own free will.

"As long as you know about it already, I shall tell you what happened," she said.

"You have apparently been misinformed.

It had nothing to do whatever with a meanness on Loneli's part.

Mäzli, please join the other children and stay there till I come," the mother interrupted herself, turning to the little girl, whose eyes had been expectantly glued on the visitor's face in the hope of hearing if the two boys were still locked up.

Mäzli walked away slowly, still hoping that she would hear the news before she reached the door.

But Mäzli was doomed to be disappointed, as no word was spoken.

Then Mrs. Maxa related the incident of the evening before as it occurred.

"That is nothing at all," said the district attorney's wife in answer.

"Those are only childish jokes.

All children hold out their feet sometimes to trip each other.

Such things should not be reckoned as faults big enough to scold children for."

"I do not agree with you," said Mrs. Maxa.

"Such kinds of jokes are very much akin to roughness, and from small cruelties larger ones soon result.

Loneli has really suffered harm from this action, and I think that joking ceases under such circumstances."

"As I said, it is not worth the trouble of losing so many words about.

I

feel decidedly that too much fuss is made about the grandmother and the child.

Apollonie does not seem to get it out of her head that her name was Castle-Apollonie and she carries her head so high that the child will soon learn it from her.

But I have come to talk with you about something much more important."

The visitor now gave her listener some information that seemed to be far from pleasing to Mrs. Maxa, because the face of the latter became more and more worried all the time.

Mrs. Knippel and her husband had come to the conclusion that the time had come when their sons should be sent to the neighboring town in order to enter the lowest classes of the high school.

The Rector's teaching had been sufficient till now, but they felt that the boys had outgrown him and belonged to a more advanced school.

So they had decided to find a good boarding place for the three boys together, as Bruno would naturally join them in order that they could remain together.

Since the three would, in later years, have great authority in the little community, it would be splendid if they were educated alike and could agree thoroughly in everything.

"My husband means to go to town in the near future and look for a suitable house where they can board," the speaker concluded.

"I am sure that you will be grateful if the question is solved for Bruno, as you would otherwise be obliged to settle it yourself."

Frau Maxa's heart was very heavy at this news.

She already saw the consequences and pictured the terrible scenes that would result if the three boys were obliged to live closely together.

"The thought of sending Bruno away from home already troubles me greatly," she said finally.

"I do not see the necessity for it.

Our rector, who has offered to teach them out of pure kindness, means to keep the boys under his care till a year from next spring.

They are able to learn plenty still from him.

However, if you have resolved to send your sons away, I shall be obliged to do the same, as the Rector could not continue the lessons for Bruno alone."

Mrs. Maxa declined the offer of her visitor to look up a dwelling-place for Bruno, as she had to talk the matter over first with her brother.

He was always her counsellor in these things, because he was the children's guardian.

The district attorney's wife did not seem gratified with this information.

As she was anxious to have the matter settled then and there, she remarked rather sarcastically that a mother should be able to decide such matters alone.

"The boys are sensible enough to behave properly without being constantly watched," she added.

"I can certainly say that mine are, and where two hold to the right path, a third is sure to follow."

"My eldest is never one to follow blindly," Mrs. Maxa said with animation.

"I should not wish it either in this case.

I shall keep him at home as long as it is possible for me, and after that I shall send him away under God's protection."

"Just as you say," the other lady uttered, rising and taking leave.

"We can talk the question of boarding over again another time," she remarked as she was going away; "when the time comes, my husband's preparation for the future will be welcome, I am sure."

When the mother, after escorting her guest, came back to the children's room, Mäzli immediately called out, "Did she say if the two are still locked up?"

"What are you inventing, Mäzli?"

said the mother.

"You probably don't know yourself what it means."

"Oh, yes, I know," Mäzli assured her.

"I asked her if the boys were still locked up because Kurt said that."

Kurt laughed out loud: "Oh, you naughty child to talk so wild!

Because I say that those two ought to be locked up, Mäzli runs over and immediately asks their mother that question."

Mrs. Maxa now understood clearly where her visitor had heard about her boy's behaviour of yesterday.

"Mäzli," she said admonishingly, "have you forgotten that you are not to ask questions of grown-up people who come to see me?"

"But why shouldn't I ask what the locked-up children are doing?"

Mäzli declared, feigning great pity in her voice.

"Now the foxy little thing wants to incline mother to be comforted by pretending to pity them," Kurt declared.

Suddenly a terrific shout of joy sounded from all voices at once as they all called: "Uncle Phipp!

Uncle Phipp!"

In a moment they had disappeared through the door.

Kurt jumped out through the window, which was not dangerous for him and was the shortest way to the street.

The mother also ran outside to greet Uncle Phipp who was her only brother.

He lived on his estate in Sils valley, which was famous for its fruit.

He was always the most welcome guest in his sister's house.

He had been away on a journey and had not made his appearance for several weeks in Nolla, and his coming was therefore greeted with special enthusiasm.

One could hardly guess that there was an uncle in the midst of the mass which was moving forward and taking up the whole breadth of the road.

The five children were hanging on to him on all sides in such a way that it looked as if one solid person was walking along on many feet.

"Maxa, I have no hand for you as you can see," the brother saluted her.

"I greet you heartily, though, with my head, which I can still nod."

"No, I want to have your hand," Mrs. Maxa replied.

"Lippo can let your right hand go for a moment.

How are you, Philip?

Welcome home!

Did you have a pleasant journey and did you find what you were looking for?"

"All has gone to my greatest satisfaction.

Forward now, young people, because I want to take off my overcoat," the uncle commanded.

"It is filled with heavy objects which might pull me to the ground."

Shouting with joy, the five now pushed their uncle into the house; they had all secretly guessed what the heavy objects in his long pockets were.

When the uncle had reached the house, he insisted on taking off his coat alone in order to prevent the things from being hurt.

He had to hang it up because the mother insisted that they should go to lunch and postpone everything else till the afternoon.

The next difficult and important question to be settled was, who should be allowed to sit beside Uncle Philip at dinner, because those next had the best chance to talk to him.

He chose the youngest two to-day.

Leading him in triumph to the inviting-looking table, they placed him in their midst with joyfully sparkling eyes.

It was a merry meal.

The children were allowed to ask him all they wanted to and he told them so many amusing things about his travels that they could never get weary of listening.

Last of all the good things came the Sunday cake, and when that was eaten, Mäzli showed great signs of impatience, as if the best of all were still to come.

"I think that Mäzli has noticed something," said the uncle; "and one must never let such a small and inquisitive nose point into empty air for too long.

We must look now what my overcoat has brought back from the ship."

Mäzli who had already jumped up from her chair seized her uncle's hand as soon as he rose.

She wanted to be as close to him as possible while he was emptying the two deep pockets.

What lovely red books came out first!

He presented them to Bruno and Kurt who appeared extremely pleased with their presents.

"This is for mother for her mending" Mäzli called out looking with suspense at her uncle's fingers.

He was just pulling out a dainty little sewing case.

"You guessed wrong that time, Mäzli," he said.

"Your mother gets a present, too, but this is for Mea, who is getting to be a young lady.

She will soon visit her friends with the sewing case under her arm."

"Oh, how lovely, uncle, how lovely!"

Mea cried out, altogether enchanted with her gift.

"I wish you had brought some friends for me with you;

they are hard enough to find here."

"I promise to do that another time, Mea.

To-day there was no more room for them in my overcoat.

But now comes the most important thing of all!"

and with these words the uncle pulled a large box out of each pocket.

"These are for the small people," he said, "but do not mix them up.

In one are stamping little horses, and in the other little steaming pots.

Which is for Mäzli?"

"The stamping horses," she said quickly.

"I don't think so.

Take it now and look," said the uncle.

When Lippo had received his box also, the two ran over to their table, but Mäzli suddenly paused half-way.

"Uncle Philip," she asked eagerly, "has mother gotten something, too, something nice?

Can I see it?"

"Yes, something very nice," the uncle answered, "but she has not gotten it yet; one can't see it, but one can hear it."

"Oh, a piano," Mäzli guessed quickly.

"No, no, Mäzli; you might see as much as that," said the uncle.

"You couldn't possibly guess it.

It can't come out till all the small birds are tucked into their nests and everything is still and quiet."

Mäzli ran to her table at last and when she found a perfect array of shining copper kettles, cooking pans and pots in her box she forgot completely about the horses.

She dug with growing astonishment into her box, which seemed to be filled with ever new and more marvellous objects.

Lippo was standing up his beautifully saddled horses in front of him, but the thing he liked best of all was a groom in a red jacket.

He put him first on one horse and then on all the others, for, to the boy's great delight, he fitted into every saddle.

He sat secure, straight and immovable even when the horses trotted or galloped.

Uncle Philip was less able to stand the quiet which was reigning after the presentation of his gifts than were the children, who were completely lost in the new marvels.

He told them now that he was ready to take them all on a walk.

Mäzli was ready before anyone, because she had thrown everything into her box and then with a little pushing had been able to put on the lid.

This did not worry her further, so she ran towards the uncle.

"Mäzli, you mustn't do that; no, you mustn't," Lippo called after her.

But the little girl stood already outside, holding her uncle's hand ready for the march.

Everybody else was ready, as they all had only had one object to put away, and the mother gave her orders to Kathy, the cook.

"Come, Lippo, don't stay behind!"

the uncle called into the room.

"I have to finish first, then I'll come right away," the little boy called back.

The mother was ready to go, too, now.

"Where is Lippo?"

she asked, examining her little brood.

"He sits in there like a mole in his hole and won't come out," said Kurt "Shall I fetch him?

He'll come quickly enough then."

"No, no," the mother returned.

"I'll attend to it."

Lippo was sitting at his little table, laying one horse after the other slowly and carefully in the box so that they should not be damaged.

"Come, Lippo, come!

We must not let Uncle Philip wait," the mother said.

"But, mother, one must not leave before everything is straightened up and put into the wardrobe," Lippo said timidly.

"One must always pack up properly."

"That is true, but I shall help you to-day," said the mother, and with her assistance everything was soon put in order.

"Oh, here comes the slow-poke at last," Kurt cried out.

"No, you must not scold him, for Lippo did right in putting his things in order before taking a walk," said his mother, who had herself given him that injunction.

"Bravo, my god-son!

I taught you that, but now we must start," said the uncle, extending his hand to the little boy.

"Where shall we go?"

"Up to the castle," Kurt quickly suggested.

Everybody was satisfied with the plan and the mother assented eagerly, as she had intended the same thing.

"We shall go up towards the castle hill," the uncle remarked as he set out after taking the two little ones by the hand.

"We shall have to go around the castle, won't we?

If cross Mr. Trius is keeping watch, we won't get very close to it, because the property is fenced in for a long way around."

"Oh, we can go up on the road to the entrance," said Kurt with animation.

"We can look into the garden from there, but everything is overgrown.

On the right is a wooden fence which we can easily climb.

From there we can run all the way up through the meadows to a thick hawthorn hedge; on the other side of that begin the bushes and behind that the woods with the old fir and pine trees, but we can't climb over it.

We could easily enough get to the castle from the woods."

"You seem to have a very minute knowledge of the place," said the uncle.

"What does Mr. Trius say to the climbing of hedges?

In the meadows there are beautiful apple-trees as far as I remember."

"He beats everybody he can catch," was Kurt's information, "even if they have no intention of taking the apples.

Whenever he sees anyone in the neighborhood of the hedge, he begins to strike out at them."

"His intention is probably to show everybody who tries to nose around that the fences are not to be climbed.

Let us wait for your mother, who knows all the little ways.

She will tell us where to go."

Uncle Philip glanced back for his sister, who had remained behind with Mea and Bruno.

While the uncle was amusing the younger ones, the two others were eagerly talking over their special problems with her, so that they got ahead very slowly.

"To which side shall we go now?

As you know the way so well, please tell us where to go," said the uncle when the three had approached.

The mother replied that Uncle Philip knew the paths as well as she, if not even better.

As long as the decision lay with her, however, she chose the height to the left from which there was a clear view of the castle.

"Then we'll pass by Apollonie's cottage," said Kurt.

"I am glad!

Then we can see what Loneli is doing after yesterday's trouble.

She is the nicest child in school."

"Let us go there," the uncle assented.

"I shall be glad to see my old friend Apollonie again!

March ahead now!"

They had soon reached the cottage at the foot of the hill, which lay bathed in brilliant sunshine.

Only the old apple-tree in the corner threw a shadow over the wooden bench beneath it and over a part of the little garden.

Grandmother and grandchild were sitting on the bench dressed in their Sunday-best and with a book on their knees.

A delicious perfume of rosemary and mignonette filled the air from the little flower-beds.

Uncle Philip looked over the top of the hedge into the garden.

"Real Sunday peace is resting on everything here.

Just look, Maxa!"

he called out to his sister.

"Look at the rose-hushes and the mignonette!

How pleasant and charming Apollonie looks in her spotless cap and shining apron with the apple-cheeked child beside her in her pretty dress!"

Loneli had just noticed her best friends and, jumping up from the bench, she ran to them.

Apollonie, glancing up, now recognized the company, too.

Radiant, she approached and invited them to step into her garden for a rest.

She was already opening the door in order to fetch out enough chairs and benches to seat them all when Mrs. Maxa stopped her.

She told Apollonie that their time was already very short, as they intended to climb the hill, but they had wished to greet her on their way up and to see her well-ordered garden.

"How attractively it is laid out, Mrs. Apollonie!"

Uncle Philip exclaimed.

"This small space is as lovely as the large castle-garden used to be.

Your roses and mignonette, the cabbage, beans and beets, the little fountain in the corner are so charming!

Your bench under the apple-tree looks most inviting."

"Oh, Mr. Falcon, you are still as fond of joking as ever," Apollonie returned.

"So you think that my rose-beds are as fine as those up there used to be?

Indeed, who has ever seen the like of them or of my wonderful vegetable garden in the castle-grounds?

There has never been such an abundance of cauliflower and peas, such rows of bean-poles, such salad-beds.

What a delight their care was to me.

Such a garden will never be seen again.

I have to sigh every time when I think that anything so beautiful should be forever lost."

"But that can't be helped," Uncle Philip answered.

"There is one great advantage you have here.

Nobody can possibly disturb your Sunday peace.