nts watched him as he stood there with the
watch in his hand, looking at it yes, he was pleased. And that pleased
them, especially Kate. She had wanted to have a text engraved inside it
as well, but Paul did not wish it: don't let them get sentimental about
it. But it was all right as it was, the boy was pleased with the gift,
and so they had gained their object.

"It strikes as well," she said to him eagerly. "You can know what
time it is in the dark. Look. If you press here--do you see?"

"Yes. Give it to me--you've to press here." He knew all about
it.

They had lost count of the time; they had to be going. Wolfgang
walked to the station between his parents. When they passed the house
where Laemke was hall-porter, Frida was standing at the door. She must
have got up earlier than usual this Sunday; she was already in her
finery, looked very nice and smiled and nodded. Then Frau Laemke stuck
her head out of the low cellar-window, and followed the boy with her
eyes.

"There he goes," she philosophised. "Who knows what life has in
store for him?" She felt quite moved.

It was splendid weather, a real spring day. The tasteful villas
looked so festive and bright; all the bushes were shooting, and the
crocuses, tulips and primroses were in bloom. Even Berlin with its
large grey houses and its noise and traffic showed a Sunday face. It
was so much quieter in the streets; true, the electric cars were
rushing along and there were cabs and carriages, but there were no
waggons about, no brewers' and butchers' carts. Everything was so much
quieter, as though subdued, softened. The streets seemed broader than
usual because they were emptier, and the faces of the people who walked
there looked different from what they generally did.

The candidates for confirmation were streaming to the
church; there was a large number of boys and girls. Most of the girls
drove, for they all belonged to good families.

Ah, all those boys and girls. Kate could hardly suppress a slight
feeling of longing, almost of envy: oh, to be as young as they were.
But then every selfish thought was swallowed up in the one feeling: the
boy, the boy was stepping out of childhood's land now. God be with
him!

Feelings she had not known for a long time, childlike, devout, quite
artless feelings crowded in upon her; everything the years and her
worldly life had brought with them fell from her. To-day she was young
again, as young as those kneeling at the