in
innocently stupid surprise. His name was Blasius, nicknamed Blasi.

Often, on the way to school, quarrels arose between Dieterli and the two
other boys. It would occur to one of them to try what Veronica would do if
he were to give her a blow with his fist. Scarcely had he opened his
attack when he found himself lying on his nose, while Dieterli played a
vigorous tattoo on his back with no gentle fists. Or the sport would be to
plant a good hard snow-ball between Veronica's shoulders, with the
mortifying result to the aggressive boy, of being pelted in the face with
handfuls of wet snow, until he was almost stifled, and cried out for
mercy. Dieterli was not afraid of either of them; for though smaller and
thinner than either, he was also much more lithe, and could glide about
like a lizard before, behind and all around his adversaries, and slip
through their fingers while they were trying to catch him. Veronica was
well avenged, and went on the rest of her way without fear of molestation.
If one of the other lads felt in a friendly mood, and wished to act as
escort to the little girl, Dieterli soon gave him to understand that that
was his own place, and he would give it up to no one.

Every evening "Cousin Judith" came for a little visit, to give Gertrude
some friendly advice about the children, or the household economy. She
used to say that the gentle widow needed some one now and then to show
claws in her behalf, and Judith knew herself to be in full possession of
claws, and of the power to use them, an accomplishment of which she was
somewhat proud. One evening she crossed over between daylight and dark,
and entered the room where Veronica was, with her favorite plaything in
her hand, moving it back and forth as she sat in the window in the waning
light. She could read very nicely now for two years had passed since she
had lost her own mother, and had become Gertrude's child. Many a time had
she read over the motto which shone out so mysteriously from the breast of
the opened rose. To-day she was poring over it again, and her absorption
in "that same old rose," as Dieterli called it, had so annoyed the lively
lad that he left her, and had gone out into the kitchen to find his
mother. When Judith saw the girl sitting thus alone, buried in thought,
she asked her what she was thinking about in the twilight all by herself.

Dieterli, whom no sound ever escaped, had heard Cousin Judith come in, and
came running in fro