w was the time to take the bread out of the oven. As
they who are wont to use the Lord's Prayer for the boiling of eggs--God
save the mark.

Henrik joined in. I saw he had no longer any idea of finishing his
school tasks, and when the "Oh, the kneading trough" began anew, I left
him in the bakery, and went upstairs to our room. On the table lay
Henrik's unfortunate exercise-book open, full of corrections made in a
different ink; of the new exercise only the first line had been begun.
Immediately I collected the words wanted from a dictionary, and wrote
the translation down on a piece of paper.

Not till an hour later did he return from the scene of his operations,
and even then did not know to what he should turn his hand first. Great
was his delight, then, to see the task already finished; he merely had
to copy it.

He gazed at me with a curious peevishness and said: "Guter kerl."[16]

[Footnote 16: Good fellow.]

From his countenance I could not gather what he had said but the word
kerl made me prepare myself for a repetition of the struggle of
yesterday, for which I did not feel the least inclination.

Scarcely was the copying ready when the steps of Father Fromm resounded
on the staircase. Henrik hastily thrust my writing into his pockets and
was poring over the open book, when the old man halted before the door,
so that when he opened it, such a noise resounded in the room as if
Henrik were trying to drive an army of locusts out of the country: "his
abacem."

"Ergo, ergo; quomodo?" said the old man, placing the palm of his hand
upon my head. I saw that this was his manner of showing affection.

I ventured to utter my first German word, answering his query with a
"Guter morgen;"[17] at which the old fellow shook his head and laughed.
I could not imagine why. Perhaps I had expressed myself badly, or had
astonished him with my rapid progress?

[Footnote 17: Correctly, "Guten Morgen" (wunsch ich): "I wish (you) (a)
good morning."]

He did not enlighten me on the subject; instead he turned with a severe
confessorial face to Henrik: "No ergo! Quid ergo? Quid seis? Habes
pensum? Nebulo!"

Henrik tried whether he could move the skin of his head like Master
Marton did, when he spoke of Mr. Fromm's Latin. For the sake of greater
security he first of all displayed the written exercise to his father,
thinking it better to leave his weaker side until later.

Father Fromm gazed at the deep learning with a critical