"Is the lady who lives with Alida and Hugo really crooked?" asked Stefeli, anxious to have that question settled.
"Yes, perhaps," said her brother a little absent-mindedly.
But Stefeli could not tolerate such uncertainty and retorted a little angrily, "If she is not crooked, she is straight, and there is no perhaps about it. We will go down to Mrs. Troll's house and see for ourselves what the lady looks like; can't we, mother?"
"No, we cannot go down to the house on that account," replied the mother. "But it is time to turn around or father will be home before we are, and that must not be."
"Perhaps they will be sitting out in front," said Stefeli, holding fast to her purpose, and now as her mother turned back, she ran ahead, to discover as quickly as possible if anyone was in front of the Troll house.
Vinzi wandered along quietly with his mother. He was not talkative now as when they had climbed the hill, but his mother was used to these changes in her boy.
"Tell me, Vinzi," she said, "why did you keep on listening after the sound of the evening bells had died away?"
"Oh, I could still hear them," he replied. "And then suddenly I heard a wonderful song coming down from the hills. The black firs Joined in with a deep bass and through it all the bell sang a wonderful song. Oh, if only I could repeat it!"
"Wasn't it a song you have heard somewhere?" his mother asked sympathetically, seeking to understand. "If you could sing a little of it to me, perhaps I might know what it was and tell you the words."
"No, no," declared Vinzi. "It is no song I ever heard and it has no words."