"I mean that your boy has been here a number of afternoons to visit the little girl upstairs, but her governess wants no more of it, and he should stay where he belongs."
"I'll see he does. Good-bye!" and Mr. Lesa went on his way.
It was just supper time as he entered his house, and both children were already at the table, because the mother liked to have everything ready on her husband's arrival. As the meal progressed and he spoke no word, she looked inquiringly at him, but since it was evident he wished to be let alone, as soon as the supper tasks were finished, she sent the children off to bed.
Directly he was alone with his wife, he said, "Sit down, for I have something to talk over with you," and when she had done so, he continued savagely, "I've had enough of the boy. He not only does nothing, understands nothing, and is good for nothing on the farm, but now he brings shame and disgrace on us. This is the end; he must go away."
"Oh, what has Vinzi done?" she asked in anxiety. "It is not his way to be mischievous. Vinzenz, tell me, has he done something wicked?"
"Ask him yourself what he has been doing. I've had enough of it. To think of a neighbor telling me it would be better for my boy to be doing something else than running into other people's houses and carrying on! Things have been going on long enough; I'm through. He must go. Away with him!" And in his agitation, he paced the room.
As he seated himself again, his wife said, "I cannot understand what has happened. Vinzi is not the kind to go into people's houses without being invited. There must have been a reason. Let us talk with the boy before we condemn him; he is sure to tell us the truth. Just think, Vinzenz, what it means to send a twelve-year-old boy away; he is certainly much too young for that."
"I'll not oppose your talking with him," replied her husband, "but I tell you this: he has to go. I have had it in mind for a long time, and it is the only way in which he can be helped. He must go some place where he will have no opportunity for such mischief, where there are very few people, and only those who find pleasure in work. I mean people who stay by themselves and who do not mix with strangers."
"But it would first be necessary to know the people," she interrupted forcibly. "You surely do not mean to say our Vinzi should be turned over to anyone just because he takes pleasure in his farm work?"