imself, not to Thea. Insidious power of the
linden bloom! "Oh, much you can learn! ABER NICHT DIE AMERICANISCHEN
FRAULEIN. They have nothing inside them," striking his chest with both
fists. "They are like the ones in the MARCHEN, a grinning face and
hollow in the insides. Something they can learn, oh, yes, may-be! But
the secret--what make the rose to red, the sky to blue, the man to
love--IN DER BRUST, IN DER BRUST it is, UND OHNE DIESES GIEBT ES KEINE
KUNST, GIEBT ES KEINE KUNST!" He threw up his square hand and shook it,
all the fingers apart and wagging. Purple and breathless he went out of
the arbor and into the house, without saying good-bye. These outbursts
frightened Wunsch. They were always harbingers of ill.

Thea got her music-book and stole quietly out of the garden. She did not
go home, but wandered off into the sand dunes, where the prickly pear
was in blossom and the green lizards were racing each other in the
glittering light. She was shaken by a passionate excitement. She did not
altogether understand what Wunsch was talking about; and yet, in a way
she knew. She knew, of course, that there was something about her that
was different. But it was more like a friendly spirit than like anything
that was a part of herself. She thought everything to it, and it
answered her; happiness consisted of that backward and forward movement
of herself. The something came and went, she never knew how. Sometimes
she hunted for it and could not find it; again, she lifted her eyes from
a book, or stepped out of doors, or wakened in the morning, and it was
there,--under her cheek, it usually seemed to be, or over her breast,--a
kind of warm sureness. And when it was there, everything was more
interesting and beautiful, even people. When this companion was with
her, she could get the most wonderful things out of Spanish Johnny, or
Wunsch, or Dr. Archie.

On her thirteenth birthday she wandered for a long while about the sand
ridges, picking up crystals and looking into the yellow prickly-pear
blossoms with their thousand stamens. She looked at the sand hills until
she wished she WERE a sand hill. And yet she knew that she was going to
leave them all behind some day. They would be changing all day long,
yellow and purple and lavender, and she would not be there. From that
day on, she felt there was a secret between her and Wunsch. Together
they had lifted a lid, pulled out a drawer, and looked at something.
They hid it away