About this time a year ago, he had, with the very same boys, broken into the Mayor’s vineyard and stolen all his very best, fine Alsatian grapes.  He intended to do this again with his confidential friends, for it had never been found out who had stolen the grapes, although they had tried in all the three communities to find the culprits, and this had greatly encouraged Churi and his allies.  But he knew how careful the Mayor had been this year, and he knew very well of his daily walks and that in the afternoon his wife also took a walk in the direction of the vineyard, and in the evening they often took the same walk together; so that the culprits had not any day been sure of them.  But on Organ-Sunday no one would be outside—­of that Churi was convinced; therefore he had arranged everything in view of that, for although there would be an investigation, all the many Lower Wooders and Middle Lotters would be in that region, and the culprits would never be found out from among such a large crowd.

After Churi had told his army of his battle plans, they dispersed in all directions.  A number of spectators had gathered around the warriors, every child in Middle Lot, down to the two-year-olds.  Ahead of all was Kaetheli, who was always on the spot when something was to be seen or heard.  When she left the meadow, she saw Erick standing near the hedge, where he had stood for a long time watching the tumultuous crowd.  Kaetheli ran to him.  “This will be such a fight as never before,” she called to him with admiration.  “Don’t you want to be in it, Erick?”

“No,” he answered drily.

“Why not?”

“Because they act as I do not care to act.”

“Not?  You are a peculiar boy, you are always alone.  Do you know where you are going Monday when Marianne goes away from here?”

“No.”

“You are going to be auctioned off.  My father has said so.”

“What is that?” asked Erick, who now listened more attentively to Kaetheli.

“Oh, there are a crowd of people in the room and they bid on you, and whoever bids the lowest gets you.”

“That is stupid,” said Erick.

“Why is it stupid?”

“Because they would get more money if they gave me to him who offers the most.”

“No, you did not understand.  You are not going to be sold, quite the reverse; he who gets you also gets the money—­do you understand now?”

“Who gives him the money?”

“Well, that is not a person, as you think,” Kaetheli explained.  “Do you see, there is a money box with money in it for the people who are poor and miserable and homeless.”

Erick grew purple.

“I am not going to be auctioned,” he said defiantly.

“Yes, indeed, Erick, that cannot be helped.  One has to obey before one is confirmed.  If you do not obey, then someone just puts you on his shoulder and takes you to the auction room.”

After Kaetheli had instructed Erick in what was coming to him, she bade him good-night and went her way.  Erick stayed on the same spot and did not move.  He had become deathly pale and his blue eyes flashed defiance and indignation, which had never been seen in this sunny face.  Thus Erick stood on the same spot when Churi came by on his way home.