Chapter VII: In the Garden at Last

QUITE early the next morning, Mrs. Birkenfeld went over to Mrs. Kurd's little house, where she was most joyously received. Mrs. Birkenfeld and Lili, her friend, had gone to school to Mr. Kurd, and the two girls had been his favorite pupils. They had been such diligent students, that he experienced nothing but success and pleasure in his task and often during his life spoke about them to his wife. Mrs. Kurd at once led her neighbor into the house, anxious to talk, for she had not seen her since the strangers had arrived. Of course, there was a great deal to tell about their ways of living and so on, and especially the accident of the day before.

When Mrs. Kurd had talked these things over a little, Mrs. Birkenfeld asked for the pleasure of meeting the boarders, and especially the little girl who had been wounded by the arrow.

Mrs. Kurd went away to give the message to Mrs. Ehrenreich, and soon the latter appeared, followed by Dora, looking very pale and thin, and with a heavy bandage on her arm.

After the first greeting, Mrs. Birkenfeld went up to the child and affectionately taking her hand inquired sympathetically about the wound. Then turning to Mrs. Ehrenreich, expressed her deep regret over the accident, and in friendly words asked after her and her husband's health.

Aunt Ninette was not slow in saying how much his condition worried her. They, had come here purposely for peace and quiet and the fine air besides, but he got none of these. He was obliged to keep his windows shut all day, for he could not stand any noise while working, and the disturbances seemed incessant. In that way, he was deprived of the good air. She also spoke of her anxiety that instead of being benefited by their vacation her husband should get worse here.

"I am so sorry the children have disturbed Mr. Ehrenreich so dreadfully at his work," said Mrs. Birkenfeld with understanding. "If Mr. Ehrenreich won't go on walks, he should have an airy place for working, and that puts me in mind of a little summerhouse in the back part of our garden, which is quite a distance from the house and the frequented places of the property. We keep a table and some chairs in it, and I sincerely hope that Mr. Ehrenreich will make that his workroom. I shall take great pains to keep the children away from that neighborhood."

Aunt Ninette was delighted with this proposition, and accepted the offer gratefully, promising to tell her husband at once.

"And you, dear child," said Mrs. Birkenfeld, turning to Dora, "you must come over to us daily and get strong and well. I hope your aunt will let you, for my children have a great wrong to make satisfaction for."

"May I really go to the lovely garden and play with the children?" asked Dora with sparkling eyes, hardly daring to believe her ears.

Her aunt looked at her, amazed; she had never seen Dora so joyful.

Mrs. Birkenfeld was so deeply touched by the child's visible delight that tears rose to her eyes and she felt herself mysteriously drawn to Dora in deep affection. Those joyfully shining eyes woke in her a whole world of memories. After it was settled that Dora should come over immediately after lunch and spend the rest of the day with the children, Mrs. Birkenfeld went home.

Aunt Ninette at once went to her husband and told him about the remote little summerhouse that had been kindly offered to him. Mr. Titus was much pleased. He had really begun to suffer from the lack of air, and as it was against his principles to lose much precious time, he had not been able to make up his mind to take a daily walk. An airy place for his studies was exactly what he wanted, and he proposed to examine the summerhouse at once. Aunt Ninette went along. They walked around the garden in order to avoid the numerous family and came at last to a little garden gate leading directly to the pavilion, just as Mrs. Birkenfeld had explained to them.

Two old walnut trees and a weeping willow with dense and deeply drooping branches stood beside the little house and behind it a large meadow stretched down the incline. Everything round about lay in silence and peace.

Mr. Titus had brought out two large books under each arm, for he meant to begin on his work at once, if he liked the place. Aunt Ninette was carrying some paper and ink, and Dora marched behind with a wax taper and some cigars. Mr. Titus, liking the spot extremely, lost no time, but settled down at the table to work. He breathed the delicious air deeply into his lungs and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. Then he began to write at once, and Aunt Ninette and Dora returned to the house, knowing he wanted to be left alone.

The news of the twins' last misdeed had quickly spread in the big house. Rolf, coming back from his Latin lesson, had gone at once for his bow. When he found one of the arrows missing, he had rushed into the house, wild with rage, to find the culprit. It was not at all difficult for him to discover this, for the twins' were still repentant, and at once remorsefully admitted their crime.

They even informed their brother of the cry of pain they had heard after shooting. They took Rolf to Mrs. Kurd's garden and showed him where the arrow might be. Sure enough, there it lay on the ground. As soon as Rolf was reconciled by finding the arrow, he ran at once to Paula and Jul, crying, "Did you know they shot a child?" That was the reason why all six children with Miss Hanenwinkel behind them, stood on the stone steps outside the house waiting in suspense and agitation for their mother's return.

She had hardly come in sight, when Hun cried, "Where did they shoot her?"

And all bombarded her with questions. "Is it a child?" "Is it a boy?" "How big is it?" "What is its name?" "Is it much hurt?"

"Come inside, children," said the mother, trying to keep them within bounds. When they all stood around her, she told them that Willi and Lili had hurt a frail little girl, who could not move her arm, but was obliged to carry it in a tight bandage. The child was of Paula's age and spoke beautifully. She was well brought up, and looked extremely pleasant. Her name was Dora, and she was coming over that afternoon to make their acquaintance.

They were even more interested now and the children wondered what Dora looked like, and whether they could understand her. Each hoped to be her special friend.

But Paula, who was more deeply thrilled than anybody, said, "Oh, mamma, I am so glad that she is just my age. Isn't it nice she is so refined? Oh, how glad I am!" In secret, she already schemed for a great and lasting friendship with her little neighbor and could hardly wait for the afternoon to come. Rolf thought that Dora would be just the right age for him, and hoped secretly she would enjoy guessing his charades. The twins, feeling that Dora was their special property, as long as they had shot her, counted already on her being a useful playmate. For their schemes and games they often wished for a third, and Paula was almost never in the mood to be of help. Hun said, full of satisfaction, "I shall be glad when Dora comes, for I can go to her when no one else has time and all our chairs are topsy-turvy." He was thinking of his dreary hours on Saturday morning, when he never knew what to play or do. Jul in his turn asked his little brother, "But, Hun, what do you think Dora and I could do together?"

"I know," said the little one, after a short reflection. "Dora can help us to take off your riding boots. Last time, there were not nearly enough of us; remember?"

"You are right," said Jul, delighted.

Dora lived through the morning in joyful trepidation, not knowing what to do from happiness. Her great wish at last was coming true, and she was to visit the merry children in their pretty garden. But suddenly she was filled with qualms. She had learned to know and love the children at her place of observation, whereas she was quite unknown to them. Not only that, but the consciousness of being so ignorant and awkward compared to them cast her spirits down. She knew how accomplished and clever they all were, and it was quite possible they would have nothing to do with her at all. These conjectures in turn troubled and delighted her during the dinner hour, and made it difficult for her to eat.

At last the wished for time came, when Aunt Ninette said to Dora, "You can go now."

The child put on her hat and set out at once, entering the front hall of the big house. She walked through the long corridor straight towards the garden at the other end, where the door stood open.

Most unexpectedly, she found herself face to face with the whole family. All were gathered under the apple tree as usual, and Dora was not prepared for this, having only expected to see the children. She therefore stopped short, and gazed at them timidly.

But the little Hun had eagerly waited for Dora, and jumped from his seat the moment he saw her. Stretching out his hand, he called, "Won't you come here, Dora? There is enough room for us both on my chair, come!" He had run up to her and seizing her hand, he pulled her towards the group.

The other children also ran towards Dora and gave her a greeting as if she were the oldest friend of the family. In the midst of questions and greetings, Dora had reached the parents, who welcomed her most affectionately. Soon her shyness completely vanished, and a few moments later, she sat sharing a chair with Hun as if she belonged to them entirely. Father and mother had risen and walked up and down the garden, while the children came closer and closer to Dora, each talking very hard. Paula said less than the others, but quietly made her observations. Rolf and the twins stood as near as possible to the little visitor and Hun had actual hold of her, in the fear she might escape him.

"If you crush Dora the very first time she comes, she won't be able to come again," said Jul, who had stretched himself out full length in his chair. "Give her a little room to breathe, please."

"How old are you, Dora? You aren't much older than I, are you?" asked Lili in great suspense.

"I am just twelve years old," answered Dora.

"Oh, what a shame! Then you are Paula's age," sighed Lili, who had hoped to own Dora more than anybody else.

"No, no," cried Rolf, "Dora is nearer my age than Paula's," a circumstance which seemed most propitious to the boy. "Are you good at guessing rhymed charades, Dora? Do you like doing it?"

"I made a charade, too," cried little Hun, loudly. "Guess this one, Dora! You can't drink my first—but—"

Rolf cut his small brother's charade indignantly in half: "Don't keep on repeating that senseless charade. You know it is no good at all, Hun!" he exclaimed. "Listen to me, Dora! My first tastes—"

But Rolf got no chance to say his riddle, either, for Lili had seized Dora's hand, and pulling her along, said urgently, "Come, Dora, come! I'll play them all now." Dora had asked Lili if she knew how to play the piano, and Lili found that the right moment for claiming Dora had come. Lili quickly won her victory, for Dora rose from her seat, anxious to hear Lili play. But she was sorry to offend Rolf.

"Don't mind my going, Rolf," she said, turning back. "I am sure I couldn't guess your charade, and then it wouldn't be fun for you."

"Won't you try once?" asked Rolf, slightly disappointed.

"If you want me to, I'll try it later," Dora called back, for Lili had already pulled her as far as the house. Hun had not let go, either, and hanging to her hand, had cried incessantly, "Mine, too, Dora, mine too!" With great friendliness, she promised to guess his also.

The little group, including Willi, who also played, had come to the instrument now. The twins had taken lessons from Miss Hanenwinkel the last year, the parents hoping that it would prove first of all a pleasure for the children. Next, they thought that music might have a softening influence on their natures, and besides, while working, at least, they would be kept from mischief.

Lili, who had drawn Dora close to the piano, suddenly remembered how she herself usually felt about the matter and said, "You know, Dora, it is really terribly tiresome to play the piano. Often, I would rather die than practise. Don't you think so, too, Willi?"

Willi eagerly supported that opinion.

"But Lili, how can you talk that way?" said Dora, looking with longing glances at the piano. "It would give me the greatest happiness to be able to sit down and play a pretty song the way you do it!"

"Would it?" asked Lili, surprised, thoughtfully looking up at Dora, whose longing eyes finally proved contagious. Opening the piano, she began to play her song, and Dora sat down beside the child, drinking in the melody, as if Lili were giving her the greatest treat.

Lili, seeing this, became enthusiastic, too, and played very well. Willi, seeing the effect his sister's piece produced, was anxious to show off, too, and said, "Let me do it, too, Lili." But Lili, who was so fired with new spirit, never stopped a moment, but played her little piece over and over again.

"Don't you know another?" asked Dora. "No, Miss Hanenwinkel won't give me another till I play my exercises better," Lili replied. "But I know what I'll do from now on. Just wait till tomorrow, Dora! Yes, I know still something else," continued Lili, turning round on her piano stool, "I'll give you piano lessons, and then you'll learn to play the song, too. Then we can learn to play other pieces together, won't we?"

"Oh, can you do that, Lili?" asked Dora, looking so blissfully happy that Lili resolved to start the lessons on the morrow.

"But, Lili, I can't do it with my arm," said Dora, suddenly looking gloomy.

But Lili was not so quickly discouraged. "It will soon be better, and till then I'll learn so much that I can teach you better," she comforted her prospective pupil.

The large bell rang for supper now. Hastily little Hun seized Dora's hand, showing that no time was to be lost. Papa always appeared punctually at meals and Hun was always ready to go when called.

The table, which was set under the apple tree, was laden with many delightful things. Dora, who sat in the midst of the children, could not help looking about her at the flowers, the lovely tree above her, and the friendly faces that seemed to her like close friends. She felt as if she must be dreaming; it was so wonderful and so much more beautiful than she had imagined, that it hardly seemed real. A fear rose in her heart, that she might suddenly wake up and find it all an illusion. But Dora did not awaken from a dream, and while she wondered about her bliss, a number of substantial objects had been heaped on her plate, giving her the full consciousness that her happiness was real.

"Eat your cake, Dora, or you'll be behindhand," said Hun, much concerned. "Jul and I have already eaten four. Jul and I can do everything well, except take off his riding boots. But you'll help us with that, Dora, won't you?"

"Hun, eat your cake," urged Jul, and Dora was prevented from giving an answer to his curious question.

Mr. Birkenfeld began a conversation with Dora and wanted to know about her father and her life in Hamburg and Karlsruhe.

Till now, Paula had not attempted to go near Dora. When the meal was over, Paula quietly stole up to the latter's chair and said, "Come with me a little while, Dora."

Overjoyed, Dora followed this invitation, for she had been afraid that Paula did not like her and wanted to have nothing to do with her, whereas she herself was drawn to Paula very much. But Paula had been anxious to find out first about Dora's nature and, liking it, she took Dora's arm, and both disappeared in the depth of the garden. However hard the twins, Hun and Rolf, sought for the two and called them, they could not be found, for Paula, making a complete circle around the garden, had led Dora up to her own room.

Here the two sat together, and found many, many things to talk about, things they had never been able to discuss with others. Neither of them ever had a friend of the same age and both experienced for the first time the joy of finding a companion with similar interests and ideals. Paula and Dora formed a firm bond of friendship, and were so happy at having found each other, that they forgot everything else and did not notice that the stars already gleamed in the sky, and night had come.

The mother, finally guessing where the two girls might be, entered the room and Dora jumped up amazed. Her aunt was probably already waiting for her, for it was late.

The other children stood downstairs, a little disappointed that Dora had disappeared, for all had made some plan for the evening.

Rolf was especially angry: "You know, Dora," he said, "you promised to guess my charade. Can you still do it?"

But Dora had to go home. Upon leaving, the mother invited her to come every day, at least as long as it was impossible to sew shirts. This brought loud acclamations of joy from the children, and it was settled that Dora would come every morning and stay all day, for every moment of her holidays must be properly enjoyed by all. The leave-taking seemed to have no end, and every child had something special to tell her. At last, Rolf abruptly cut short the conversation. He had the last chance to talk with her, having received permission to take her home. When they walked over the open space in front of the house, the stars gleamed so brightly, that Dora paused in her walk.

"Do you see those five sparkling stars, Rolf?" she asked, pointing to the firmament. "I have known them for a long time. They always shine into my room in Karlsruhe and here they are again."

"Oh, I know them well," Rolf answered promptly. "They are on my map. Do you know their names?"

"No, I don't! Do you really know the names of stars, Rolf? Oh, you know so much!" said Dora, admiringly. "Don't those five have a name and belong together? I am sure I've seen others, too, that belong together. At least they seem to. Do you know them all, Rolf? Oh, I'd love to learn about them from you."

Rolf was delighted at having a new subject of study to share with Dora.

"We can start right away, Dora," he said eagerly. "Come, I'll show them all to you, one after another, even if it should take us till twelve o'clock."

These words reminded Dora that it was already late.

"No, no, Rolf," she said hastily, "not tonight, but thank you just the same. But will you do it tomorrow?"

"Surely we'll do it tomorrow, and don't forget you promised. Good-night, Dora."

"Good-night, Rolf," Dora called out before hastening into the house. She was so full of happiness over the whole wonderful afternoon, that she ran right up to her waiting aunt and began to tell about everything at once.

Her vivacity and animation quite alarmed her aunt. "Dora, Dora, just think! The excitement might affect your wounded arm. Go to bed and sleep, that will be the best," she said.

Dora went to her room at once, but felt unable to go to sleep. First of all, she knelt down by her bedside and thanked God for the happiness she had experienced. The most blissful holidays were before her, after which she would not mind going back to her dreary work. She resolved in her deepest soul to endure the long, sad winter days without complaints, never forgetting her charming friends. Dora could not shut her eyes for a long time, she was so deeply grateful and overjoyed.