s, the children set about it very
stupidly; she had positively to push them to the hiding-place.

At last, tired out and almost irritable, Kate went indoors; she
would only stop there a short time. No, she could not stand it any
longer, always to have to talk and talk to the children and still not
get any answer out of them.

But hardly had she reached her room, when she pricked up her ears; a
cry reached her from outside that was as clear, as piercing and
triumphant as a swallow's when on the wing. Children shouted like that
when they were thoroughly happy--oh, she knew that from former times,
from the time before Woelfchen had come. Then she had often listened to
such shouts full of longing. Oh--_she_ had only to go, then the
children were merry, then Wolfgang was merry. She felt very bitter.

She had gone to the window and was looking out into the garden, with
her forehead pressed against the pane. How they ran, jumped, hopped,
laughed. As though they had been set free. They were trying to catch
each other. Frida darted behind the bushes like a weasel, came into
sight again with a sharp piercing laugh, and then disappeared once more
with a shriek. Wolfgang set off after her wildly. He took no notice of
the beds in which the flowers were growing, his mother's
delight; he jumped into the middle of them, caring little whether he
broke the hyacinths or the tulips, his one thought being to prevent
Frida escaping.

And the two others copied him. Oh, how they trampled on the beds
now. All three boys were after the girl. The fair plait flew up and
down in the sunshine like a golden cord, now here, now there. At last
Wolfgang seized hold of it with a triumphant shout. Frida endeavoured
to get it away, but the boy held it fast. Then she turned round as
quick as lightning, and, laughing all over her face, grasped him firmly
round the body with both hands.

It was a harmless merry embrace, a trick of the game--the girl did
not wish to be caught, she wanted to pretend that she had been the
captor--it was quite a childish innocent embrace, but Kate reddened.
She frowned: hardly had she turned her back, when the girl from the
street showed herself.

And the mother went into the garden again with a feeling of hatred
towards the girl who, in spite of her youth, already endeavoured to
attract her boy.

If Kate had thought she would earn her boy's boisterous gratitude
that evening after the children had gone home, loaded with