d do for her. Growing very red,
Ephie asked him if he "would ... could ... would please tell her where
Mr. Schilsky lived."

Herr Kleefeld leaned both hands on the counter, and disconcerted her by
staring at her over his spectacles.

"Mr. Schilsky? Is it very important?" he said with a leer, as if he
were making a joke.

"Why, yes, indeed," replied Ephie timidly.

He nodded his head, more to himself than to her, went back to his desk,
opened another ledger, and ran his finger down a page, repeating aloud
as he did so, to her extreme embarrassment: "Mr. Schilsky--let me see.
Mr. Schilsky--let me see."

After a pause, he handed her a slip of paper, on which he had
painstakingly copied the address: "TALSTRASSE, 12 III."

"Why, I thank you very much. I have to ask him about some music. Is
there anything to pay?" stammered Ephie.

But Herr Kleefeld, leaning as before on the counter, shook his head
from side to side, with a waggish air, which confused Ephie still more.
She made her escape, and left him there, still wagging, like a china
Mandarin.

Having addressed the letter in the nearest post office, she entered a
confectioner's and bought a pound of chocolate creams; so that when
Johanna met her in the passage, anxious and angry at her leaving the
house without a word, she was able to assert that her candy-box had
been empty, and she felt she could not begin to practise till it was
refilled. But Johanna was very cantankerous, and obliged her to study
an hour overtime to atone for her escapade.

Then followed for Ephie several unhappy days, when all the feeling she
seemed capable of concentrated itself on the visits of the postman. She
remained standing at the window until she had seen him come up the
street, and she was regularly the first to look through the mails as
they lay on the lobby table. Two days brought no reply to her letter.
On the third fell a lesson, which she was resolved not to take. But
when the hour came, she dressed herself with care and went as usual.
Schilsky was nowhere to be seen. Half a week later, the same thing was
repeated, except that on this day, she made herself prettier than ever:
she was like some gay, garden flower, in a big white hat, round the
brim of which lay scarlet poppies, and a dress of a light blue, which
heightened the colour of her cheeks, and, reflected in her eyes, made
them bluer than a fjord in the sun. But her spirits were low; if she
did not see him this time, d