Mea flared like a rocket at her brother’s suggestion, crying violently, “Indeed you won’t, Kurt.”

“Mea, Mea,” the mother admonished her, “I propose to do all I can to keep Leonore here as long as possible, but—­”

“But, Mea, she might be put to flight with fear and never be seen again if you attack your poor brothers in such a way,” Kurt quickly concluded the mother’s sentence.

Mea had to laugh over this speech, which little resembled her mother’s style of talking.

“My dear Kurt,” she said, “I am quite able to complete a sentence without your assistance.  I wanted to say that I should not be able to do very much, because the ladies will take Leonore when it suits them best.  I have to admit, however, that there was some truth in Kurt’s reply.  Leonore has such a delicate, refined nature that it might frighten her to see you carried away by such passion, Mea.”

When the doctor came back again in two days he was surprised at the improved condition of his little patient.  “If she was not so very young,” the doctor said to Mrs. Maxa while she accompanied him out of the room, “I should say that her illness came largely from some hidden sorrow and inner suffering.  She has apparently been able to shake it off in the good care and affectionate treatment she is getting here.  But I can scarcely believe this of a child.”

When Mrs. Maxa asked him how soon Leonore could leave the room and spend the day with her very active children, he answered, “She can do it from to-morrow on.  Nothing can possibly refresh her more than some lively playmates.”

With this he took his leave.  Going downstairs, he met Apollonie, who was just coming up with a supper-tray laden with delicate dishes for the sick child.

“That is right,” said the doctor; “it gives one an appetite only to look at it.”

“Yes, the poor child eats like a little bird,” said Apollonie; “but Mrs. Rector says that there must be things to choose from in order to tempt her.  How is she getting along, doctor?  Do you think she’ll get well again?  Isn’t she just like a little angel?”

“That is hard for me to say, as I do not know any angels,” he said smiling, “but she might be for all I know.  I am sure that she will get well with careful nursing, and you are sure to see to that, Mrs. Apollonie.  You seem to think that in being given care of the child you have drawn the big prize in the lottery.”

“Indeed I have.  I really have,” she cried after him.

No event had ever been looked forward to with such great suspense in Mrs. Maxa’s house as the appearance of Leonore.  As soon as all the children were home from school the next morning, their mother fetched her down.  The three older ones were standing expectantly together in a little group, while the two smaller ones had placed themselves with wide-open eyes near the door.  Leonore, entering, greeted one after the other in such an engaging, confidential