Brave little Clevi, who usually relished telling of her dangerous adventures when they had turned out well, was as silent as a mouse about it all.  Whenever Loneli asked her a straight question needing a straight answer, Clevi ran away, and Loneli got none.  The report was sure to have some foundation, and the most noticeable thing of all was that Kurt’s change had come since that night.  That same day he had taken the load off her heart and had been so gay and merry.  So Loneli put two and two together, and having made these observations, was filled with sudden wrath.

As soon as school was ended, she rushed to the astonished Clevi:  “Oh, I know what you have done, Clevi.  Kurt was your leader and you didn’t obey him; you all ran away because you were afraid.  Oh, you have spoiled it all for him.”

“Yes, and what about him?  He was afraid himself,” Clevi cried out excitedly, for the reproach had stung her.  “I could see with what terrified bounds he flew down the mountain-side.”

“Was he afraid, too, do you really mean?  But of what?” Loneli questioned further.

“Of what?  That is easily said:  of what!  You ought to have seen that huge creature coming towards us from the castle.”

Since it had come out that they had been so frightened, Clevi now told in detail about the horribly tall armoured knight with the high boots and the long cloak hanging down to his boot-tops.

“Was the mantle blue?” Loneli, who had been listening intensely, interrupted.

“It was night-time, and you can imagine we did not see the color clearly,” Clevi said indignantly.  “But the color has nothing to do with it, it was the length, the horrible, horrible length of that thing!  It looked just too awful.  He had a high helmet on his head besides, with a still higher bunch of black plumes that nodded in the most frightful way.”

A gleam of joy sparkled in Loneli’s eyes.  Flying away like an arrow, she sought out Mrs. Maxa’s house.  Kurt was standing at the hawthorn hedge in front of the garden with his schoolbag still slung around him.  He had not rushed in ahead of the others according to his custom.

With puckered brow he was pulling one leaf after another from the hedge.  Then he flung them all away, as if he wanted with each to rid himself of a disagreeable thought.

“Kurt,” Loneli called to him, “please wait a moment.  Don’t go in yet, for I want to tell you something.”

When Loneli stood beside Kurt she was suddenly filled with embarrassment.  She knew exactly what she had to say, but it would sound as if she was trying to examine Kurt.  This kept her from beginning.

“Tell me what you want, Loneli,” Kurt encouraged her, when he saw her hesitation.

So Loneli began: 

“I wanted to ask you if—­if—­oh, Kurt!  Are you so sad on account of what happened at the castle and because you thought there was no ghost?”