conclusion. "It is now finally decided. The Maerchen-Frau is to be
walled up."

And walled up she was forthwith, but not without a parting embrace
from each of her judges, and possibly some slight latent faith in the
suggestion of one of the party that perhaps St. Nicholas would put a
new inside and new stories into her before next December.

"I don't think I should like a new inside, though," doubted the child
before mentioned, with a shake of her tiny plaits, "or new stories
either."

As this quaint little Fraeulein went into the house she met Friedrich,
who came from the bookseller's.

"Friedrich," said she, in a solemn voice, "we have walled up the
'Maerchen-Frau.'"

"Have you, _Schwesterchen_?"

This was Friedrich's answer; but it may safely be stated that, if any
one had asked him what it was his sister had told him, he would have
been utterly unable to reply.

He had been to the bookseller's!

The summer passed, and the children kept faithfully to their resolve.
The little sister sometimes sat by the wall and comforted the
Maerchen-Frau inside, with promises of coming out soon; but not a brick
was touched. There was something pathetic in the children's voluntary
renouncement of their one toy. The father was too absent and the
mother too busy, to notice its loss; Marie missed it and made
inquiries of the children, but she was implored to be silent, and
discreetly held her tongue. Winter drew on, and for some time a change
was visible in the manners of one of the children; he seemed restless
and uncomfortable, as if something preyed upon his mind. At last he
was induced to unburden himself to the others, when it was discovered
that he couldn't forget the poems in "Maerchen-Frau." This was the
grievance.

"It seems as if I did it on purpose," groaned he in self-indignation.
"The nearer the time comes, and the more I try to forget, the clearer
I remember them everyone. You know my pet is Bluebeard; well, I
thought I would forget that altogether, every word: and then when my
turn came to be Maerchen-Frau I would take it for my piece. And now, of
all the rest, this is just the one that runs in my head. It is quite
as if I did it on purpose."

Involuntarily the company--who appeared to have forgotten it as little
as he--struck up in a merry tune--

"Blaubart war ein reicher Mann," etc.[A]

"Oh, don't!" groaned the victim. "That's just how it goes in my head
all along, especially the verse--

"