certainly accepted the invitation without showing any
resentment--the coachman knew what was the right thing to do--but the
Laemkes did not want to come on any account--that is to say,
their mother did not wish it. Lisbeth had been sent there twice; the
second time she had come back quite indignant: "Really, what notions
such people have." "Dear boy, it's no good, they won't come," Kate had
had to say. But then she had noticed how downcast he looked, and in the
night she had heard him sigh and toss about. No, that would not do. She
wanted to feel his arm, which he had flung so impetuously round her
waist when she gave him permission to invite the children, round her
neck too. And then she had sat down and written--written to this
uneducated woman, addressing her as "Dear Madam," and had asked her to
let the children look for eggs to please Wolfgang.

Now they were there. They stood stiff and silent on the path dressed
in their best clothes, and did not even look at the flower-beds. Kate
had always imagined she understood how to draw out children extremely
well, but she did not understand it in this case. She had praised
Frida's bran-new, many coloured check frock, and had lifted up her fair
plait on which the blue bow was dangling: "Oh, how thick!"--and she had
remarked on Artur's shiny boots and Flebbe's hair, which was covered
with pomade and which he wore plastered down on both sides of his
healthy-looking footman's face with a parting in the middle. She had
also made inquiries about their school report at Easter, but had never
got any longer answer than "yes" and "no."

The children were shy. Especially Frida. She was the eldest, and she
felt how forced the friendly inquiries were. She made her curtsey as
she always did, quickly and pertly like a water wagtail bobbing up and
down, but her high girl's voice did not sound so clear to-day; the tone
was more subdued, almost depressed. And she did not laugh.
Artur copied his sister, and Hans Flebbe copied the girl too, for he
always considered all she did worthy of imitation. The two boys stood
there, poor little wretches, staring fixedly at the points of their
boots and sniffing, as they dared not take out their handkerchiefs and
use them.

Kate was in despair. She could not understand that her Wolfgang
could find pleasure in having such playfellows. Moreover, he was
exactly like the others that day, taciturn and awkward. Even when they
commenced to look for the egg