Two days later the promised lines arrived and Effi read:  “I am glad, dear gracious Lady, to be able to give you good news.  Everything turned out as desired.  Your husband is too much a man of the world to refuse a Lady a request that she makes of him.  But I must not keep from you the fact that I saw plainly his consent was not in accord with what he considers wise and right.  But let us not pick faults where we ought to be glad.  We have arranged that Annie is to come some time on Monday and may good fortune attend your meeting.”

It was on the postman’s second round that Effi received these lines and it would presumably be less than two hours till Annie appeared.  That was a short time and yet too long.  Effi walked restlessly about the two rooms and then back to the kitchen, where she talked with Roswitha about everything imaginable:  about the ivy over on Christ’s Church and the probability that next year the windows would be entirely overgrown; about the porter, who had again turned off the gas so poorly that they were likely to be blown up; and about buying their lamp oil again at the large lamp store on Unter den Linden instead of on Anhalt St. She talked about everything imaginable, except Annie, because she wished to keep down the fear lurking in her soul, in spite of the letter from the minister’s wife, or perhaps because of it.

Finally, at noon, the bell was rung timidly and Roswitha went to look through the peephole.  Surely enough, it was Annie.  Roswitha gave the child a kiss, but said nothing, and then led her very quietly, as though some one were ill in the house, from the corridor into the back room and then to the door opening into the front room.

“Go in there, Annie.”  With these words she left the child and returned to the kitchen, for she did not wish to be in the way.

Effi was standing at the other end of the room with her back against the post of the mirror when the child entered.  “Annie!” But Annie stood still by the half opened door, partly out of embarrassment, but partly on purpose.  Effi rushed to her, lifted her up, and kissed her.

“Annie, my sweet child, how glad I am!  Come, tell me.”  She took Annie by the hand and went toward the sofa to sit down.  Annie stood and looked shyly at her mother, at the same time reaching her left hand toward the corner of the table cloth, hanging down near her.  “Did you know, Annie, that I saw you one day?”

“Yes, I thought you did.”

“Now tell me a great deal.  How tall you have grown!  And that is the scar there.  Roswitha told me about it.  You were always so wild and hoidenish in your playing.  You get that from your mother.  She was the same way.  And at school?  I fancy you are always at the head, you look to me as though you ought to be a model pupil and always bring home the best marks.  I have heard also that Miss von Wedelstaedt praises you.  That is right.  I was likewise ambitious, but I had no such good school.  Mythology was always my best study.  In what are you best?”