“I’ll get the time between four and five o’clock,” said Kurt.  This term suited him exactly, as he had a secret hope of prolonging it somewhat.  The two little ones were to have the remaining time before supper, and Kurt thought that they could not have very much to tell, whereas he was in need of a great deal of advice.

The mother had been quite certain that Bruno in his interview with her would make a last, desperate effort to escape having to live with the Knippel boys.  What was her surprise when she found that this had been entirely pushed into the background by his lively sympathy in Salo’s destiny.

Bruno’s thoughts were constantly occupied by the thought that his new, charming friend stood entirely alone in the world.  As Salo had no one who could help him to find a home, Bruno hoped that his mother would be able to give him some advice.  He felt sure that she would gladly do this, for she loved both children tenderly, as she had formerly loved their parents.

The boy had been absolutely right when he supposed that Mrs. Maxa would be glad to help them, but she had to tell Bruno frankly that there was no advice she was able to give.  She had no authority over the children and could therefore do nothing, as everything depended on Salo’s early completion of his studies so that he could choose an occupation.  This would have to be settled by the gentleman of whom Salo had spoken.  He was probably a relation of their mother’s who had undertaken the care of the children.

Bruno was terribly cast down when he heard this.  When his mother did not give him help and counsel right away, she usually gave him some hope by saying, “We shall see.”  As she had not said this to-day, he felt certain that nothing could be done.  But the mother’s unhappy face showed to Bruno that her disability did not come from a lack of sympathy, and that it pained her very much that she could do nothing.

When Bruno came out of the room he was very silent and sadder than he had ever been in his life.

Mea, on the contrary, came skipping out from her interview.  Her mother had told her that Leonore was charming, refined and modest, besides being extremely grateful for every little favor.  But what thrilled Mea beyond everything was that Leonore had repeatedly told her mother how much she looked forward to meeting her, because the two were of an age.  Leonore’s only fear was that Mea might find her rather tiresome.  All the girls in the boarding school had always accused her of that, for she was often terribly unhappy, and she could not help it.  Mea was more eager than ever now to meet Leonore, for she was already filled with a warm love for the sick child.  She could talk and think of practically nothing but Leonore.

“I certainly have to make a song about this violent new friendship,” Kurt said in the evening, when Mea had urged more than once, “Oh, mother, I hope you won’t let Leonore go as soon as she can come down and the doctor says she is well; otherwise we shall barely be able to become acquainted.”