"It's time for the children to go to sleep also," added the house-father. "The Forest-farm boy must sleep in the top room."
The disappointment was bitter. I had thought that Simmerl and I would have been able to lie near each other on a pile of hay, and this was actually the reason that I had come with him into this strange house. Tears came into my eyes in proportion to the anguish of finding out that it was all up with the hay, and that I had to sleep by myself in a dark little room. The house-mother must have noticed something, for she said, "He can very well sleep in the little room with Simmerl; there's a bed empty there."
"Well and good, but don't talk long, boys." So the house-father, after which Simmerl went to his parents, kissed their hands and said "Good night."
This custom pleased me mightily, and I resolved to introduce it also into my home. I never got so far as that; I had always been ashamed of being entirely naughty to my parents, but also of being quite good, and in particular it had been impossible to me to show certain courtesies, much as I liked them.
I gathered from the order "not to talk long" that we had permission to talk, and as we lay, each in his little bed, having put out the light, so that nothing more was to be seen than the two faintly lighted square windows, I asked Simmerl, "What was wrong with that fellow Kickel?"
"Cherry-stones," answered the lad.
"Why did he get so wild?"
"Oh, poor old Kickel!" said my comrade. "Don't you know that he was in prison for ten years? Last year they let him out."
"Why?"
"Because the Kaiser was married."