And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, the good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said: "There, now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not reckoned on getting away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid, an elderly person with a pointed face, had already come, so what was there for her to do? So all she had done was to wrap up all the pictures of the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in paper, and stick them into the drawer in the table that stood at the boy's bedside--he would be sure to find them there--after she had written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone away.
Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had nothing to carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she stopped all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was almost eleven now, it really did not matter if she left somewhat later. How pleased he would be if she said good-bye to him once more and begged him not to forget her.
She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the school, and there she would wait for him.
The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had posted herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of missing him. So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood with her little bag on her arm. Now and then she asked somebody what time it was. The time passed slowly. At last it was almost one. Then she felt her heart beat: the good boy! In her thoughts she could already see his dark eyes flash with joy, hear his amazed: "Cillchen! You?"
Cilia pushed her hat straight on her beautiful fair hair, and stared fixedly at the school-door with a more vivid red on her red cheeks: the bell would soon ring--then he would come rushing out--then--. All at once she saw the boy's mother. She? Frau Schlieben was approaching the door with quick steps. Oh dear!
A few quick bounds brought her behind a bush: did she intend fetching her Wolfgang herself to-day? Oh, then she would have to go. And she stole away to the station, full of grief. The joy that had made her heart beat had all disappeared; but she still had one consolation: Wolfgang would not forget her. No, never!
Wolfgang was much surprised to see his mother. Surely he need not be fetched? She had never done that herself before. He was disagreeably impressed. Was he a baby? The others would make fun of him. He felt very indignant, but his mother's kindness disarmed him.
She was specially tender that day, and very talkative. She inquired about everything they had been doing at school, she did not even scold when he confessed he had had ten faults in his Latin composition; on the contrary, she promised he should make an excursion to Schildhorn that afternoon. It was such a beautiful, sunny autumn day, almost like summer. The boy sauntered along beside her, quite content, dangling his books at the end of the long strap. He had quite forgotten for the moment that Cilia was to leave that day.
But when they came home and the strange maid answered the door, he opened his eyes wide, and when they sat down at table and the new girl with the pointed face, who did not look at all like a servant, brought in the dishes, he could not contain himself any longer.
"Where's Cilia?" he asked.