That was at least something; Sally and Ritz were satisfied, and they ran at once with Kaetheli into the house.  But Edi showed a dissatisfied face, for wherever something strange could be seen or found, he had to be there.

He stood there without saying a word.  He was thinking whether he dared to work on his mother to get the desired permission.  He feared, however, the auxiliary troops which his aunt would lead into battle to help his mother.  But before he had weighed all sides his aunt said:  “Well, Edi, have you not yet swallowed the defeat?  Isn’t there some old Roman, or Egyptian, who also could not always do what he wanted?  Just you think that over and you will see that it will help you.”

That helped, indeed, for Edi was a great searcher in history, and when he happened in that field, then all other interests were pushed into the background.  He at once remembered that he had not finished reading about his old Egyptian, and with a smoothed brow he ran into the house.

The sun had set and it was growing dark among the bushes in the garden, where the children, with red cheeks, were seeking each other and hiding again.  All of a sudden there came a loud, penetrating call:  “To bed, to bed!” Ritz had just found a fine hiding-place in the henhouse, where he had comfortably settled, secure from being discovered, when this terrible call reached him.  It struck him like a thunderbolt.  Yes, it took his breath away so that he turned white and hadn’t the strength to rise; for, with the call came the remembrance of the three sentences which he had to write:  three whole sentences and nine different qualities, and he had forgotten everything, and now all the time had gone and he had to go to bed.

“Where are you, Ritz?” It sounded into his hiding-place.  “Come, crawl out.  I know you are in there and will be covered with feathers from head to foot.”

The aunt stood before the henhouse, and Sally and Kaetheli beside her full of expectation, for they had sought Ritz for a long time in vain.  But Auntie had experience in such things.  Ritz actually came crawling out of the henhouse and stood now in a lamentable condition before his aunt.

“How you do look!  You ought to have been in bed an hour ago, you haven’t a drop of blood in your cheeks,” the aunt exclaimed.  “What is the matter with you, Ritz?”

“Where is Mamma?” asked Ritz in his fright.

“She is upstairs; come, she will put you to bed at once when I have got you finally together.  Come, Sally, and you, Kaetheli, go home now.”

With these words she took Ritz by the hand, and drew him up the stone steps into the house, and wanted to bring him up the stairs to the bedroom.  Then everything was over and no rescue from going to bed at once.  Now Ritz stopped his aunt and groaned:  “I must—­I must—­I have to write three sentences for punishment.”

“There we have it.”  But Ritz looked so miserable that Auntie felt great pity for him.  “Come in here,” she said, and shoved him into the living-room, “and take out your things.”