Next morning Salo was allowed to go into his sister's room in order to say good-bye to her. She looked at him so cheerfully that he asked with eager delight, "Do you feel so much better already, Leonore?"  
"Oh, yes, I feel as if I were at home," she replied with shining eyes. "I feel as if our mother had come down from heaven to take care of me."
 
"When you can get up and go downstairs you will be happier still. I know how much you will enjoy meeting the whole family," said Salo. "Then you will feel as if you were in a real home that belongs to you."
 
"It is such a shame that you have to go," Leonore sighed, but this time the tears did not come quite so urgently. How things had changed since yesterday—how different it was now to stay behind!
 
At this moment Mrs. Maxa entered the room.
 
She had left it as she wanted to give brother and sister an opportunity to see each other alone, but the time had come for Salo to depart, and he was obliged to leave his sister. To-day it seemed harder for him to go away than leave Leonore behind.
 
"I can't even say that I wish you to come soon. I have to hope that you can remain here a long while," he said cheerily, while Leonore was smiling bravely. Uncle Philip, ready for the journey, stood beside the carriage. All the children ran towards Salo as soon as he appeared, and when he said good-bye, he was treated like a friend of the family of many years' . Each of the children showed his grief in a special manner. Mäzli cried loudly over and over again, "Oh, Salo, please come soon again, please come soon again."
 
When the carriage was rolling away and the handkerchiefs that fluttered him last greetings were all Salo could see from the distance, he rapidly brushed away a few tears. He had never felt so at home anywhere in the world before. How happy he had been! The thought of going far away and possibly never coming back gave him a little of grief.
 
When the children returned at noon from school they were still full of their vivid impression of Salo's sudden appearance and departure. They were all anxious to tell their mother about it, because they knew that they could always count on her lively sympathy. One or the other of the children kept forgetting that the mother must not be sought and would absent-mindedly make an attempt to go upstairs, but they were always met by unexpected resistance. Lippo on his arrival home from school had posted himself there to see that his mother's orders were kept. He also had missed her , but he had nevertheless remembered her injunctions and was quite certain that the others might forget and act contrary to her orders. Placing himself on the first step, he would hold any of his brothers or sisters with both hands when they came towards him as they dashed upstairs. When he cried out loudly, "We mustn't do it, we mustn't do it," they ran away again, quite frightened, for his might have into the sick-room. Kathy was the only one who appreciated Lippo's worth. She had received orders to remind the children of the strict command, and she knew quite well from previous experiences that she could never have succeeded as effectively as he. Mäzli, meanwhile, was sitting at Apollonie's table, gayly eating a snow-white milk-pudding which Apollonie knew so well how to prepare. Whenever Mäzli came to a meal at her house, she always set this favorite dish before the child.
 
The days when Mäzli came for a visit here were happy days for Loneli. There was always something funny going on at meal-time, because Mäzli had so many amusing things to speak about. On those days she was never obliged to tell her grandmother exactly what lessons she had known in school and which she had not. Usually Apollonie was dreadfully anxious to hear how punctually she had fulfilled her duties, and she always chose lunch-time for that purpose because then no other affair with talking. Beaming with joy, Loneli now sat beside Mäzli, who was telling uninterruptedly about Salo. She told them that he was friendlier and nicer than any boy she had ever seen, and she quoted Bruno, Mea and Kurt as saying exactly the same thing. Usually they disagreed on such points. Apollonie was quite absorbed in listening, too, and nodding her head once in a while, she seemed to say: "Yes, yes, I know that he couldn't be called Salo for nothing." This interesting subject of conversation kept her longer than usual to-day.
 
"Suddenly she started up, quite frightened. Oh, is it possible? It is nearly one o'clock. Hurry up, Loneli, or you'll be late for school. Mäzli, you and I have something to do, too, this afternoon. I shall take you on a walk and I'll tell you where we are going as soon as we start."
 
As the dishes had to be washed first, Apollonie thought that Mäzli might go out to play in the garden. But Mäzli preferred to see the plates washed and dried and afterwards set in neat rows. After these tasks Apollonie put on a good , a beautiful neck-cloth, and after packing up several shirts, cloths and stockings into a large basket the two set out.
 
"Where are we going?" Mäzli asked, inspecting the basket. "Who are you taking these things to?"
 
"They belong to Mr. Trius," replied Apollonie. "We are going all the way up to the castle, as far as the great iron door. When I pull the bell-knob, Mr. Trius comes and gets this basket. You'll be able to peep in through the door till he comes back again with the empty basket."
 
"Can one look into the garden from there and see the big mignonette-bushes that mama liked so much?" Mäzli asked.
 
"Yes, yes, the garden is there," Apollonie replied with a profound sigh, "but the great rose and mignonette beds are gone. It would take a long time nowadays to find even a couple of the flowers."
 
"We could surely find them inside," Mäzli said with great certainty.
 
"But Mäzli, what are you thinking of? Nobody is allowed to go in. You see, Mr. Trius lets nobody either into the garden or into the castle," Apollonie repeated with great emphasis. "I should have gone in long ago if he had let me. Oh, how I should have loved to go, and I know how badly needed I am. What a dreadful all the rooms must be in! If I could only go a single time to do the most necessary things!" Apollonie in her great trouble had quite forgotten that she was speaking to little Mäzli.
 
"Why should you bring him so many shirts and stockings if he doesn't let you in? Don't bring him anything," Mäzli cried out indignantly.
 
"No, no, Mäzli. You see, these are his shirts and stockings, and I have only washed and mended them for him," Apollonie explained.
 
"Besides, Mr. Trius can't do as he pleases. Do you see the open windows up there? No, you couldn't see them from here. Well, up there lives a sick gentleman, a , who won't let anybody come into the garden. He is the master there and can give orders, and people must not disobey him. Look, one can see the open windows quite plainly now."
 
"Can we see the bad baron, too?" asked Mäzli peeping up searchingly.
 
"I did not say that he was bad, Mäzli, I only said that he can give orders," Apollonie corrected. "And you can't see him because he is lying sick in bed. Look, look! the fine, thick raspberry bushes used to be there." Apollonie was pointing to wild-looking that were climbing up the castle incline. "Oh, how different it all used to be! Two splendid hedges used to run up there, then across and down again on the other side. Both girls and boys used to feast on them for whole days at a time, and there were always enough left for pots and pots full of jam. And now how terrible it all looks! Everything is growing wild. Nobody who has known the place the way I knew it could have ever thought that it would look like this."
 
Mäzli was not very deeply moved by the change. She had long been gazing at the high gate which was to be their destination and which they were nearing rapidly.
 
"Does Mr. Trius take his big stick along when he comes down to the gate?" she asked, looking cautiously about her.
 
"Yes, yes, he never goes about without it, Mäzli, but you need not be afraid," Apollonie calmed her. "He won't hurt you, and I should advise him not to. Look! there he comes already. He has been spying about, and nothing ever escapes him."
 
Mr. Trius was already standing at the gate with his stick and opened it. "That is fine," he said, receiving the basket, and was in the act of closing the door again immediately.
 
"No, no, Mr. Trius, don't do that!" said Apollonie, restraining him. She had vigorously pushed back the door and posted herself firmly in the opening. "I always do my duty punctually and I like to do it because you belong to the castle. But you can at least let me have a word about the master's health."
 
"The same," was the reply.
 
"The same; what does that mean?" Apollonie retorted. "Do you watch him while he sleeps? Are you cooking the right things for him? What does the master eat?"
 
"Venison."
 
"What? How can you cook such things for him? Such rich and heavy meat for a sick man! What does the doctor say to that?"
 
"Nothing."
 
"What, nothing? He certainly must say what his patient ought to eat. Who is his doctor? I hope a good one. I am afraid the master is not troubling much about it. Did you fetch the one from Sils? He is very careful, I know."
 
"No."
 
"Who do you have?"
 
"No one."
 
Apollonie threw up her arms in violent . "So the baron lies up there sick and lonely and nobody even fetches a doctor. Oh, if his mother knew this! That simply won't do, and I am going in. Please let me in. The master won't have to see me at all. All I want to do is to cook something strengthening for him. I shall only put his room in order, and if he happens to get up, I can make his bed. Oh, please let me in, Mr. Trius! You know that I'll do anything in the world for you. Please let me nurse the sick master!"
 
Apollonie's voice had grown .
 
"Forbidden," was the reply.
 
"But I am no stranger here. I have served in this house for more than thirty years," Apollonie went on eagerly. "I know what is needed and what the master ought to have. Things are not attended to at all, I fear, and indeed I know it. After all I am an old acquaintance, and I'll only come an hour a day to do the most urgent task."
 
"Nobody is allowed to come," Mr. Trius said again in his unchangeable, dry tone. It was all the same to him whether Apollonie begged or scolded. In her anxiety about the sick master she had forgotten everything else.
 
"Where is the child?" she suddenly cried out in great anxiety. "Good gracious, where is she? She must have run into the garden."
 
Mr. Trius had suddenly grown more lively. Throwing the gate to with great violence, he turned the huge key before pulling it rapidly out. He realized that Apollonie was capable of doing anything in her excitement about the lost child.
 
"Witch's baggage!" he murmured angrily. Swinging his stick in a threatening way, he ran towards the castle.
 
"Mr. Trius," Apollonie screamed after him with all her might, "if you touch the child you will have to reckon with me, do you hear? Hold the stick down. She can't help being frightened if she sees you."
 
But he had quickly been lost from view. While Apollonie and Mr. Trius had been absorbed in their violent and had stared at each other, she in wild excitement and he in stiff immovability, Mäzli had slipped from between the two as swiftly as a little mouse. Then she had merrily wandered up towards the castle hoping that she would soon see the garden with the lovely flowers. But all she could see were wild bushes and stretches of grass with only the yellow sparkling flowers which grow in every common meadow. This was not what Mäzli had expected, so she went up to the terrace of the castle and looked about from there for the flower garden. At the end of the terrace where the little pine wood began she saw something that looked like yellow flowers and quickly ran there. But instead of flowers she saw a lion skin shining in the sun. To see what was under the skin Mäzli came closer. A head was raised up and two sharp eyes were directed towards her. It was a man who had half raised himself on the long chair which was covered by the skin. As soon as she saw that it was a human being and not a lion, she came nearer and asked quite , "Do you happen to know where the beautiful old mignonette is, that mama saw in the garden here?"
 
"No," the man answered .
 
"Maybe Mr. Trius knows, but one can't ask him. Are you afraid of Mr. Trius, too?" Mäzli asked.
 
"No."
 
"But he always goes about with a big stick. Kurt has made a song about him where he tells everything that Mr. Trius does," Mäzli on. "It begins like this:
 
 
   Old Trius lives in our town,
   A man is he,
   And every one that he can catch
    He beats right .
 
I don't remember the rest, but it is quite long. But he wants to make a song about Salo now, because he is so nice. He said it as soon as Salo went away today. We all like him, and Bruno said that if he made a stupid song he would tear it up."
 
"Is everybody here called Salo and Bruno?" the gentleman burst out angrily.
 
"No, nobody except Bruno, you know; he is my big brother," Mäzli explained. "Salo only came yesterday and went away again to-day. But he did not want to go and we wanted to keep him. But he was not allowed to. If his sister is well again, she has to go away, too. But we don't know her yet. Her name is Leonore."
 
"Who sent you here?" the gentleman ejaculated harshly. But Mäzli only looked at him in .
 
"Nobody has sent me. Nobody knows where I am, not even Apollonie," Mäzli began to explain. "I only ran away because Apollonie had to tell Mr. Trius so many things and I wanted to see the mignonette. I am visiting Apollonie because mama has to nurse Leonore, who is ill and can't come down. Because I don't obey Kathy very well and she has to cook, I spend the days with Apollonie. Oh, here he comes!" Mäzli interrupted herself suddenly, for she was frightened. Coming close to her new acquaintance, as if to seek his protection, she whispered confidentially. "Oh, won't you help me, please, if he tries to hurt me?"
 
Mr. Trius was rushing towards them, holding out his stick in front like an of his profession. The gentleman only made a light gesture with his hand, and Mr. Trius disappeared as he had come.
 
"Won't he hurt me if I come down to the door where he stands?" Mäzli asked. She retreated slightly from her protector, whom she had held tightly in her fear of the stick.
 
"No," he replied curtly, but his voice did not sound as severe as before, a fact which Mäzli noticed immediately. She was very grateful to him for chasing Mr. Trius away and she now felt desirous of doing him a service in return.
 
"Do you always have to sit alone here all the time? Does no one come to see you?" she asked, full of sympathy.
 
"No."
 
"Oh, then I must come to you another time and I'll keep you company," Mäzli said consolingly. "Does the bad baron never come down to you here?" she asked anxiously.
 
"Where is he?" came a second question.
 
"Don't you know that?" Mäzli said in great surprise. "He is up there where the windows are open." With this Mäzli looked up, and walking close to the chair, whispered cautiously, "A sick baron lies up there. Apollonie says that he is not bad, but I know that one has to be afraid of him. Are you afraid of him?"
 
"No."
 
"Then I won't be afraid of him either," Mäzli remarked, quite . The gentleman who had chased away Mr. Trius so easily and was not afraid of the bad baron gave her all the confidence in the world. Under his protection she could face every danger.
 
"I'll go home now, but I'll come soon again," and with this Mäzli gave her hand in a most winning way. When she wanted to say good-bye she realized that she did not know either the gentleman's name or title, so she stopped.
 
"I am the Castle ," said the gentleman, Mäzli. When the leave-taking was done Mäzli ran back towards the door. Sure enough, Mr. Trius was standing inside the portals and Apollonie on the outside, for the careful man had not opened them again. He thought that the excited woman might forcibly enter the garden in order to seek the child.
 
"God be thanked that you are here again!" she cried when Mäzli came out. She quickly took her hand. Mr. Trius, after violently shutting the gate, had immediately turned his back upon the visitors.
 
"I was simply frightened to death, Mäzli. How could you run away from me? I did not know where you had got to."
 
"You didn't need to be so frightened," Mäzli said with calm assurance. "I was with the Castle-Steward. I don't need to be afraid of anything with him, not even of Mr. Trius."
 
"What, the Castle-Steward! What are you saying, Mäzli? Who said it was the Steward?" Apollonie's words were full of anxiety, as if Mäzli might be threatened with great danger.
 
"He told me so himself. He was sitting all alone under a big tree. He sits there alone all the time. But I am going up to see him soon again," Mäzli informed her.
 
"No, no, Mäzli, what are you thinking of? You can't do it if he has not told you to. I am sure Mr. Trius will see that you won't get in there any more," said Apollonie, and she was quite sure that Mäzli's plan would never succeed.
 
But if Mäzli ever made a discovery, she was not easily led away.
 
"Yes, but he won't be allowed to stop me," she said a little scornfully.
 
That evening Loneli was allowed to bring Mäzli home. She always loved to go to Mrs. Maxa's house, because Kurt and Mea were her best friends. Loneli was always so friendly and obliging to everybody that the school children often asked her to deliver messages. This often took place in cases of estrangements when a third person was needed. Loneli had been asked after school to-day to give a message to Mea and she was glad of the chance to deliver it.
 
Mea had sent a proposal of peace to Elvira through Loneli, for she hated the constant sulking of her friend and the unpleasant new manner she exhibited in turning her back upon her. Mea had twice before tried to be reconciled to the Elvira, but unfortunately in vain. She did not dare to admit this to Kurt, who would not have approved of her behaviour but would have even made a horrible song about it. But one could always rely on Loneli, who was . Mea, standing at the window, saw Loneli coming towards the house and ran down to meet her.
 
"I have to tell you something terribly sad about Elvira," Loneli said, quite downcast.
 
"What is it? What is it?" Mea asked.
 
"She doesn't ever want to renew her friendship with you and she has asked me to tell you that. You may be sure that I should not tell you if I did not have to," Loneli added, "because it makes me so sad."
 
Mea reflected a moment, wondering what she had really done. All she had been guilty of was accusing Elvira of an act of . So all friendly feelings between them were to be for all time as her punishment.
 
"Elvira can sulk for the rest of , if she wants to," Mea said now without the slightest trace of sadness. Loneli was greatly surprised. "There are other people in this world besides her. I should have loved to tell Elvira who was staying with us. Never has anybody been so nice and pleased us so. I wish I could have told her who is here now, though we don't know her yet; but Elvira keeps on turning her back on me. You see, Loneli, the nicest boy, about Bruno's age, came to see us, and his sister is sick upstairs. We are not allowed to see her just yet, but I can hardly wait till she comes down. If she is as nice as her brother, she is the nicest child any of us have ever seen."
 
At this description Loneli's eyes fairly gleamed with sympathy.
 
"What is her name," she asked expectantly.
 
"Leonore," Mea answered.
 
"Oh," Loneli immediately began, "my grandmother also knew a young lady called Leonore. She always says that that young lady was as lovely as an angel and that there could not be anybody in the world as wonderful as she."
 
"I am rather glad if Leonore is not like an angel, for she might not be my friend then," Mea said quickly. "Elvira even, who certainly is not at all like an angel, has to break her friendship with me every few weeks."
 
"Maybe she does that because she is so little like an angel," Loneli suggested.
 
At this both children laughed. Often Loneli found exactly the right word to say which would throw light on the matter. Kurt always enjoyed these remarks of hers.
 
At that moment shrieks of joy sounded from the house: "Mama is coming! Mama is coming!"
 
Lippo, the watchman, had posted himself again on the stairs as soon as he had returned from school, and he had found ample work there. Kurt had again forgotten the command and had to be chased away, and even Bruno had made an attempt to quietly steal up to his mother. But all this had only brought horrified cries from the little boy.
 
They had both meant no wrong whatever. All they had wanted was to quickly say a word to the mother through the open door. Nevertheless, Lippo had grown terribly up about it. A firm command had been given, and they had tried to break it, so they all had been obliged to give way before his violent noise.
 
A strange gentleman had come, too, who was half-way up the stairs with two leaps. But Lippo had grabbed the tails of his coat and, holding on to them with both hands, , "Nobody is allowed to go up. You must not go up."
 
Laughingly turning about, the gentleman said, "Just let me go, little one. I am allowed because I am the doctor. Your uncle told me where to go, so I'll easily find my way. But I'll make use of you some day, for you are a splendid sentinel."
 
When the doctor on his return found him still on the same spot, he called him a pillar of good order and told him that he would send for him if he should ever need a reliable watchman.
 
Soon after, Lippo uttered sudden shouts of joy, for he saw his mother coming downstairs. What a surprise it was to see her when they had thought that she would be shut up for one or two days longer!
 
"Mama is coming! Mama is coming!"
 
All had heard his and Mea was the first to appear, pulling Loneli after her. Bruno came rushing from one side and Kurt from the other, and Mäzli shot like an arrow right into their midst. The mother found herself solidly surrounded.
 
"Mama, just think—"
 
"Oh, listen, mama!"
 
"Oh, mama, I want to tell you—"
 
"Do you know, mama?"
 
This came from all sides and all at once.
 
"To-morrow, children, to-morrow," said the mother. "We must be very happy that we can see each other so soon again. I wanted to send one of you to Apollonie, but I am glad to see you here, Loneli."
 
Mrs. Maxa now told Loneli the message she was to take to her grandmother. The doctor had just been there and had found Leonore much better already. As her fever had gone down, he feared no serious illness. Leonore was to spend several more days in bed and therefore she was to have a nurse who could also take care of her at night-time. For this nobody better than grandmother Apollonie could be found, and Mrs. Maxa would be so glad for her patient's and her own sake if she could arrange to come to the house for several days and nights. She told Loneli to tell her grandmother that the little girl was named Leonore and that Mrs. Maxa was quite sure she would not be hard to take care of.
 
The mother would not allow herself to be detained any longer. To all the questions which stormed in upon her she only had one answer: "To-morrow, children, to-morrow." Then she disappeared again into the sick room.
 
"Please tell me what she is like, when you have seen her. I am so curious," said Loneli, taking leave, and Mea promised to give the sympathetic Loneli a full report of everything.
 
Next morning extremely early Apollonie appeared at Mrs. Maxa's house. As the door was not open yet, she knocked quietly and after a while Kathy appeared with heavy, sleepy eyes.
 
"Why should anybody rush about at this early hour," she said a little angrily. It did not suit her at all that Apollonie should have found out what a short time she had been astir.
 
"I begin my day at this hour," said Apollonie, "and there is no need for me to rush about. I can leave that to those who get up late. I have come to take Mrs. Rector's place in the sick room."
 
"She hasn't even called yet," Kathy flung out.
 
"So much the better, then I have at least not come too late. I can find some work everywhere," and with this Apollonie entered the living room and began to set it in order.
 
Kathy did not hinder her and, to show her , attempted to start a little conversation. But Apollonie was not in the mood for that. She was filled by the question who the sick Leonore was that she was going to nurse. Could it be possible?
 
That moment a bell sounded from upstairs, and Apollonie obeyed t............