Chapter IV: 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?"

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 life
While yet the lamp is glowing
And pluck the fragrant rose
In 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 born
While 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 ground
And 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 firmly
Wanted to be
But otherwise
One stays
And each
And now will
This leaf
When the time comes
That the pieces
fit
We'll rejoice
And we'll go
Never."

"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.