CHAPTER IX.
A STORY AND A FAREWELL.
“Going away! O Herr Adler—don’t go away! We can’t spare you.”
So said Squib in vehement dismay, catching hold of one of Herr Adler’s hands as he spoke, as though he would restrain him by force.
“Why must you go?” continued the child eagerly. “You are grown up: you can do just as you like. Ah, do stay as long as I do!”
“So that is your idea of being grown up—to do just as one likes,” said Herr Adler, with his amused smile, which always made Squib feel as if he were thinking of all manner of things unknown to the world at large. “Well, perhaps you are not so far out, my little friend; for I do not only like my work, I love it with all my heart. A holiday sometimes is very pleasant and restful; but, after all, it is the work that is the best part of life.”
“Oh!” cried Squib, “it isn’t so for us—for children, I mean. It’s all beautiful out here amongst the mountains; but I can’t bear to think of going back, and just having stupid, tiresome lessons to do. It will be so dull!”
“Dull!” said Herr Adler, in a voice which brought a sudden wave of red into Squib’s cheeks; “dull to learn all sorts of wonderful and interesting things about the great wonderful world we live in! Why, what did you say to me the other day about finding everything so interesting? And now you call your lessons dull. Why, that is nonsense!”
“Oh, if you taught me my lessons they would all be interesting,” answered the little boy quickly; “but some people can’t make anything interesting; and then—and then—”
Herr Adler nodded his head several times, with one of his grave smiles.
“Yes, you may well say, ‘and then—and then—’ and stick fast. Can’t you make things interesting for yourself? How is it your games are all so interesting?—your collections and your carving? Why, because you are interested; because you want to learn and to know and to do more and more, and better and better. And your lessons will be just as interesting—no matter who teaches you—if you just make up your mind that you want to know. Not long ago I met in company one of the cleverest men living. It was in a very mixed gathering, and there were all sorts of very different people there. I watched this gentleman a long time. He went from one to another, and again and again I heard him say, ‘I want to know’ this—’I want to know’ that. No matter to whom he talked, he had always something to ask. He always wanted to know. You take him as an example, my little friend. You want to know—and you will find nothing dull.”