“But why, Kurt?  The poor child!” the mother exclaimed.  “What did she do?  I am afraid that her honest old grandmother will take it terribly to heart.  She’ll be in deep sorrow about it and will probably punish Loneli again.”

“No, indeed, she must not do that,” Kurt said eagerly.  “The teacher said himself that he hated to put Loneli there, as she was a good and obedient child, but that he had to keep his word.  He had announced that he was tired of the constant chattering going on in the school.  To stop it he had threatened to put the first child on the shame-bench that was caught.  So poor Loneli had to sit there all by herself and she cried so terribly that we all felt sorry.  But of course, mother, a person doesn’t talk alone, and Loneli should not have been obliged to stay there alone.  The teacher had just asked:  ’Who is talking over there?  I can hear some whispering.  Who is it?’ Loneli answered ‘I’ in a low voice, so she had to be punished.  One of her neighbors should have said ‘I,’ too, of course; it was perfectly evident that there was another one.”

“Loneli might have asked somebody a question which was not answered,” his mother suggested.

“Mea will know all about it, for she followed Loneli after school.  Now more still, mother,” Kurt continued.  “Two boys from my class were beaten this morning by Mr. Trius.  Early this morning they had climbed over the castle hedge to inspect the apples on the other side of the hedge.  But Mr. Trius was already about and stood suddenly before them with his heavy stick.  In a jiffy they had a real Trius-beating, for the hedge is high and firm and one can’t get across it quickly.  Now for my fourth piece of news.  Farmer Max who lives behind the castle has told everybody that when his father came back late yesterday night from the cattle-fair in the valley, he saw a large coach, which was right behind his own, drive into the castle-garden.  He was quite certain that it went there, but nobody seems to know who was in it.  So you are really listening at last, mother!  I noticed that you have been absentminded till now.  Farmer Max told us something else about his father that you wouldn’t like me to repeat, I know.”

“You would not say so if it were not wrong; you had better not repeat it, Kurt,” said the mother.

“No, indeed, it is not bad, but very strange.  I can tell you though, because I don’t believe it myself.  Max told that his father said there was something wrong about the coach and that he went far out of its way.  The coachman looked as if he only had half a head, and his coat-collar was rolled up terribly high in order to hide what was below.  He was wildly beating the horses so that they fairly flew up the castle-hill, while sparks of fire were flying from their hoofs.”

“How can you tell such rubbish, Kurt?  How should there be something unnatural in such a sight?” the mother scolded him.  “I am sure you think that the Wildenstein ghost is wandering about again.  You can see every day that horses’ hoofs give out sparks when they strike stone, and to see a coachman with a rolled up collar in windy weather is not an unusual sight either.  In spite of all I say to you, Kurt, you seem to do nothing but occupy yourself with this matter.  Can’t you let the foolish people talk without repeating it all the time?”