*

It was a fortnight later, the first of October, that Cilla left her
situation. Kate had given her a good character; it was still not clear
to the girl why she had been dismissed, even when she stood in the
street. The lady wanted an older, more experienced maid--that was what
she had said--but Cilia did not quite believe that, she felt vaguely
that there was another reason: she simply did not like her. She would
go home for a short time before taking another situation, she felt
homesick, and it had been difficult for her to leave the place--on
account of the boy. How he had cried, even yesterday evening. He had
hung on her neck and kissed her many times like a little child, that
big boy. And there was so much he still wanted to say to her. They had
been standing together upstairs in the dark passage, and then the
mistress's step as she came up the stairs had driven them away; he was
just able to escape to his room.

And she had not even been able to say good-bye to him to-day, the
good boy. For he had hardly gone to school when her mistress said:
"There, now you can go." She was quite taken aback, for she had not
reckoned on getting away before the afternoon. But the new housemaid,
an elderly person with a pointed face, had already come, so what was
there for her to do? So all she had done was to wrap up all the
pictures of the saints she kept in her prayer-book quickly in
paper, and stick them into the drawer in the table that stood at the
boy's bedside--he would be sure to find them there--after she had
written "Love from Cilia" on them. Then she had gone away.

Cilia had sent her basket on by goods train, and she had nothing to
carry now but a little leather bag and a cardboard box tied with
string. So she could get on quickly. But on her way to the station she
stopped all at once: the school would be over at one o'clock, it was
almost eleven now, it really did not matter if she left somewhat later.
How pleased he would be if she said good-bye to him once more and
begged him not to forget her.

She turned round. She would be sure to find a bench near the school,
and there she would wait for him.

The passers-by looked curiously at the young girl who had posted
herself near the school like a soldier, stiff and silent. Cilia had not
found a bench; she dared not go far from the entrance for fear of
missing him. So she placed the cardboard box on the ground, and stood
with her little bag on her arm. Now and t