Whenever Mäzli found the time heavy on her hands, she would suddenly remember people who might want to see her. She had been extremely occupied all these days entertaining Leonore, as during school hours she had been the older girl's sole companion. Her brothers and sisters were now home for a holiday and constantly surrounded Leonore. Finding herself without her usual employment, Mäzli ran after her mother on the morning of the holiday and kept on saying, "I must go to see Apollonie. I am sure Loneli is sad that I have not been to see her so long," until her mother finally gave her permission to go that afternoon.  
On her way to Apollonie Mäzli had been struck by an idea which occupied her very much. She arrived at the cottage of her old friend and sat down beside Loneli, who was not in the least sad, but looked about her with the merriest eyes. "I must go see the Castle- to-day," she said quickly. "I promised it but I forgot about it."
 
"No, no, Mäzli," Apollonie said evasively, "we have lots of other things to do. We have to see if the plums are getting ripe on the tree in the corner of the garden, and after that you must see the chickens. Just think, Mäzli, they have little chicks, and you will have to see them. I am sure you won't ever want to leave them."
 
"Oh, yes, when I have seen them I must go to the Castle-Steward because I promised to," Mäzli replied.
 
"I am sure he has forgotten all about it and does not remember you any more," Apollonie said, trying to Mäzli off from her design. "Does your mama know that you mean to go to the castle?"
 
"No, because I only thought of it on my way here," Mäzli assured her old friend. "But one must always keep a promise; Kurt told me that."
 
"Mr. Trius won't even let you in," Apollonie protested.
 
"Certainly! He has to. I know the Castle-Steward well, and he is not in the least afraid of Mr. Trius; I have noticed that," said Mäzli, firmly holding to her resolution.
 
Apollonie realized that words would do no good and resolved to entertain Mäzli so well with the little chickens and other things that it would finally be too late for her to go to the castle. Mäzli inspected the tiny chickens and the plums with great , but as this had barely taken any time at all, she soon said , "I have to go now because it is late. If you would like to stay home, Loneli can come with me. I am sure we can easily find the way."
 
"What are you dreaming of, Mäzli?" Apollonie cried out. "How do you think Mr. Trius would receive you if you ask him to let you in, I should like to know? You'll find out something you won't like, I am afraid. No, no, this can't be. If you insist on going, I had better go along."
 
Apollonie went indoors to get ready for the walk, as she always put on better clothes whenever she mounted to the castle, despite the fact that she might not see anyone. Loneli was extremely eager to have a chance to find out who was the Castle-Steward whom Mäzli had promised to visit. She had tried to persuade her grandmother to let her go with Mäzli, in which case her mother would not need to change her clothes, But the latter would not even hear of it, remarking, "You can sit on the bench under the pear tree with your knitting in the meantime, and you can sing a song. We are sure to be back again in a little while."
 
Soon they started off, Apollonie firmly holding Mäzli's hand. Mr. Trius appeared at the door before they even had time to ring; it seemed as if the man really had his eyes on everything. Throwing a furious glance at Mäzli, he opened the door before Apollonie had said a word. But he had taken great care to leave a crack which would only allow a little person like Mäzli to slip through without sticking fast in the opening. Mäzli through and started to run away. The next moment the door was closed again. "Do you think I intend to squeeze myself through, too? You do not need to bolt it, Mr. Trius," Apollonie said, much offended. "It is not necessary to cut off the child from me like that, so that I don't even know where she is going. I am taking care of her, remember. Won't you please let me in, for I want to watch her, that is all."
 
"Forbidden," said Mr. Trius.
 
"Why did you let the child in?"
 
"I was ordered to."
 
"What? You were ordered to? By the master?" cried out Apollonie. "Oh, Mr. Trius, how could he let the child go in and walk about the garden while his old servant is kept out? She ought to be in there looking after things. I am sure you have never told him how I have come to you, come again and again and have begged you to admit me. I want to put things into their old order and you don't want me to. You don't even know, , which bed he has and if his pillows are properly covered. You said so yourself. I am sure that the good old would have no peace in her grave if she knew all this. And this is all your fault. I can clearly see that. I can tell you one thing, though! If you refuse to give my messages to the master as I have begged and begged you to so often, I'll find another way. I'll write a letter."
 
"Won't help."
 
"What won't help? How can you know that? You won't know what's in the letter. I suppose the still reads his own letters," Apollonie eagerly went on.
 
"He receives no letters from these parts."
 
This was a terrible blow for Apollonie, to whom this new thought had given great confidence. She therefore to say nothing more and quietly watched Mr. Trius as he walked up and down inside the garden.
 
Mäzli in the meantime had eagerly pursued her way and was soon up on the terrace. Glancing about from there, she saw the gentleman again, stretched out in the shadow of the pine tree, as she had seen him first, and the glinting cover was lying again on his knees. Mäzli ran over to him.
 
"How do you do, Mr. Castle-Steward? Are you angry with me because I have not come for so long?" she called out to him from a distance, and a moment later she was by his side. "It was only on account of Leonore," Mäzli continued. "I should otherwise have come ages ago. But when the others are all in school she can't be left alone. So I stay with her and I like to do it because she is so nice. Everybody likes Leonore, everybody likes her terribly; Kurt and Bruno, too. They stay home all the time now because Leonore is with us. You ought to know how nice she is. You would like her dreadfully right away."
 
"Do you think so?" said the gentleman, while something like a smile played about his lips. "Is it your sister?"
 
"My sister? No, indeed," Mäzli said, quite astonished at his error. "She is Salo's sister, the boy who was with us and who had to go back to Hanover. She has to go back to Hanover, too, as soon as she is well, and mama always gets very sad when she talks about it. But Mea gets sadder still and even cries. Leonore hates to leave us, but she has to. She cried dreadfully once because she can never, never have a home. As long as she lives she'll have to be homeless. The beggar-woman who came with the two children said that. They were homeless, and Leonore said afterwards, 'I am that way, too,' and then she cried terribly, and we were sent out into the garden. She might have cried still more if she had thought about our having a home with a mama while she has none. She has no papa or anybody. But you must not think that she is a homeless child with a torn dress; she looks quite different. Maybe she can find a home in Apollonie's little house under the hill. Then Salo can come home to her in the holidays. But mama does not think that this can be. But Leonore wants it ever so much. I must bring her to you one day."
 
"Who are you, child? What is your name," asked the gentleman .
 
Mäzli looked at him in .
 
"I am Mäzli," she said, "and mama has the same name as I have. But they don't call her that. Some people call her Mrs. Rector, some mama, and Uncle Philip says Maxa to her and Leonore calls her Aunt Maxa."
 
"Is your father the rector of Nolla?" the gentleman asked.
 
"He has been in heaven a long while, and he was in heaven before we came here, but mama wanted to come back to Nolla because this was her home. We don't live in the rectory now, but where there is a garden with lots of paths, and where the big currant-bushes are in the corners, here and here and here." Mäzli traced the position of the bushes exactly on the lionskin. The castle-steward, leaning back in his chair, said nothing more. "Do you find it very here?" Mäzli asked sympathetically.
 
"Yes, I do," was the answer.
 
"Have you no picture-book"
 
"No."
 
"Oh, I'll bring you one, as soon as I come again. And then—but perhaps you have a headache?" Mäzli interrupted herself. "When my mama wrinkles up her forehead the way you do she always has a headache, and one must get her some cold water to make it better. I'll quickly get some," and the next instant Mäzli was gone.
 
"Come back, child!" the gentleman called after her. "There is nobody in the castle, and you won't find any."
 
It seemed strange to Mäzli that there should be nobody to bring water to the Castle-Steward.
 
"I'll find somebody for him," she said, eagerly running down the incline to the door, in whose vicinity Mr. Trius was wandering up and down.
 
"You are to go up to the Castle-Steward at once," she said still in front of him, "and you are to bring him some cold water, because he has a headache. But very quickly."
 
Mr. Trius glanced at Mäzli in an infuriated way as if to say: "How do you dare to come to me like this?" Then throwing the door wide open he like a cross bear: "Out of here first, so I can close it." After Mäzli had slipped out he banged the big door with all his might so that the hinges . Turning the key twice in the lock, he also bolted it with a . By this he meant to show that no one could easily go in again at his pleasure.
 
Apollonie, who had been sitting down in the shade not far from the door now went up to Mäzli and said, "You stayed there a long time. What did the gentleman say?"
 
"Very little, but I told him a lot," Mäzli said. "He has a headache, Apollonie, and just think! nobody ever brings him any water, and Mr. Trius even turns the key and bolts the door before he goes to him."
 
Apollonie broke out into such lamentations and complaints after these words that Mäzli could not bear it.
 
"But he has the water long ago, Apollonie. I am sure Mr. Trius gave it to him. Please don't go on so," she said a trifle impatiently. But this was only oil poured on the flames.
 
"Yes, no one knows what he does and what he doesn't do," Apollonie , louder than ever. "The poor master is sick, and all his servant does is to stumble about the place, not asking after his needs and letting everything go to rack and ruin. Not a cabbage-head or a pea-plant is to be seen. Not one strawberry or raspberry, no golden apricots on the wall or a single little dainty peach. The everywhere is . When I think how wonderfully it used to be managed by the Baroness!" Apollonie kept on wiping her eyes because present conditions worried her dreadfully. "You can't understand it, Mäzli," she continued, when she had calmed down a trifle. "You see, child, I should be glad to give a finger of my right hand if I could go up there one day a week in order to arrange things for the master as they should be and fix the garden and the vegetables. The stuff the old soldier is giving him to eat is , I know."
 
Mäzli hated to hear complaints, so she always looked for a remedy.
 
"You don't need to be so unhappy," she said. "Just cook some nice milk-pudding for him and I'll take it up to him. Then he'll have something good to eat, something much better than vegetables; oh, yes, a thousand times better."
 
"You little innocent! Oh, when I think of forty years ago!" Apollonie cried out, but she complained no further. Mäzli's answers had clearly given her the conviction that the child could not possibly understand the difficult situation she was in.
 
Mäzli by Apollonie's side, and as soon as she reached home, wanted to tell her mother what had happened. But the child was to have no opportunity for that day. The mother had been very careful in keeping the contents of Miss Remke's letter from the children in order not to spoil their last two weeks together. Unfortunately Bruno had that day received a letter from Salo, in which he wrote that in ten days one of the ladies was coming to fetch Leonore home, as she was completely well. Salo remarked quite that he himself hardly looked forward to Leonore's coming, as he saw in each of her letters how happy she was in Aunt Maxa's household and how difficult the separation would be for her. Whenever he thought how hard it would be for her to grow accustomed to the change again, all his joy vanished at the of her return. Bruno had read the whole letter aloud and had therewith up such and grief on every side that the mother hardly knew how to comfort them. Leonore herself was sitting in the midst of the excited group. She gave no sound and had unsuccessfully tried to swallow her rising tears, but they had got the better of her and were falling over her cheeks in a steady stream.
 
Mea was crying excitedly, "Oh, mother, you must help us. You have to write to the ladies that they mustn't come. Please don't let Leonore go!"
 
Bruno remarked that no one had the right to drag a sick person on a journey against the doctor's wishes. The doctor had said the last time he had been here that Leonore was to have not less than a month for her complete recovery.
 
Kurt cried out over and over again, "Oh, mother, it's cruel, it's perfectly cruel! We all want to keep her here and she wants to stay. Now she is to be violently taken from us. Isn't that absolutely cruel?"
 
Lippo, coming close to Leonore, also did his best to console her. He remembered that he could not say "stay with us" any more, but he had another plan.
 
"Don't cry, Leonore," he said encouragingly. "As soon as I am big, Uncle Philip has promised to give me a house and a lot of meadows. I'll be a farmer then, and I'll write to you to come to live with me, and Salo can come for the holidays, too."
 
Leonore could not help smiling, but it only brought more tears when she thought how much love she was receiving from all these children, and that she had to leave them and might never see them again. The mother's attempts to comfort them failed , because she had no hope herself.
 
In the middle of this scene Mäzli arrived, perfectly happy and filled with her recent experiences. She wished to relate what the Castle-Steward had said to her and what she had said to him, and what had happened afterwards. But no one listened because they were so deeply absorbed with their own disturbing thoughts. They were not in the least interested in what Mäzli had to say about the Steward, as they all thought that the steward was Mr. Trius. That evening the unheard-of happened. Mäzli actually begged to go to bed before the evening song had been sung, because the depressing atmosphere in the house was so little to her taste that she even preferred to go to bed.
 
Mea had been hoping till now that her mother would find some means to keep Leonore. If it could not be the way Apollonie planned, she might at least stay for a long stretch of time. All of a sudden this hope was gone entirely, and the day of separation was terribly near. The girl looked so completely when she started out for school next day that the mother had not the heart to let her go without a little comfort.
 
"You only need to go to school two more days, Mea," she said. "Next week you can stay home and spend all your time with Leonore."
 
Mea was very glad to hear it, but without uttering a word she ran away, for everything that concerned Leonore brought tears to her eyes.
 
Leonore had been looking so pale the last few days that Mrs. Maxa surveyed her anxiously. Perhaps the recovery had not been as complete as they had hoped, for the news of the close date of her departure h............