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Updated: April 30, 2025
"But the child dies." "Jimmy?" "He dies all of last night and to-day. To-night, it is, perhaps, but of moments." Harmony clutched at the iron stair-rail for support. "You are sure? You are not telling me so that I will go back?" "He dies, Fraulein. The Herr Doktor has not slept for many hours.
Frau Doktor M. is ill, but we don't know what's the matter with her. We were all frightfuly dull at school. The head took her classes and we were left to ourselves in the interval. I do hope she has not got appendicitis, that would be awful. June 18th. She isn't back yet. Frau Doktor Steiner says she has very bad tonsillitis and won't be able to come for at least a week. June 19th.
That's exactly suited for her, for the Frau Doktor teaches German and in the Fourth in German they are reading these poets. Last month in the Fourth they had a Schiller festival and Frau Doktor made a splendid speech and some of the girls gave recitations. Besides Hella has shown me an awful poem by Schiller.
There were possibilities in that young woman for an inspiration, not to mention a dedication, and from that moment his suffering temperament took up its bed and walked. They retired after the meal, leaving us to discuss them at leisure. "There is a likeness," mused the Frau Doktor. "Quite. What a manner she has. Such reserve, such a tender way with the child."
Clad in a yellow mackintosh she stood in the middle of the room questioning the manager. And every guest the pension contained was grouped about her, even the Frau Doktor, presumably examining a timetable, as near to the august skirts as possible. "But where is my maid?" asked the Baroness. "There was no maid," replied the manager, "save for your gracious sister and daughter."
Nearly all the girls who were still there brought Frau Doktor M. and Frau Doktor St. flowers as farewell tokens. This time, Hella and I were allowed to go with Frau Doktor M. to the metropolitan. When we kiss her hand she always blushes, and we love doing it. This summer holidays she is going to Germany, of course; really Hella need not have asked; it's obvious!!! July 8th.
Herr Heinrich made Mr. Britling his instance. If Mr. Britling were a German he would certainly have some sort of title, a definite position, responsibility. Here he was not even called Herr Doktor. He said what he liked. Nobody rewarded him; nobody reprimanded him. When Herr Heinrich asked him of his position, whether he was above or below Mr. Bernard Shaw or Mr. Arnold White or Mr.
When his beloved again took him to the doctor's home, he was received by her just as though he really belonged to the family. She no longer had to hide her nationality. Freya simply called her Frau Doktor and she, with the glib enthusiasm of the professor, finally succeeded in converting the sailor, explaining to him the right and reason of her country's entrance into war with half of Europe.
He liked her hat, and when she flushed with pleasure demanded proof that she was not rouged. Proof was forthcoming. She rubbed her cheeks vigorously with a handkerchief and produced in triumph its unreddened purity. "Thou suspicious one!" she pouted. "I must take off the skin to assure thee! When the Herr Doktor says no rouge, I use none." "You're a good child."
We're afraid to give one to Professor J. But if he doesn't get one perhaps he'll be offended. December 2nd. To-day we went to buy Krampuses for the staff. The one for Frau Doktor M. is the finest. When you open it the first thing you see is little books with Schiller, Goethe, and Fairy Tales written on the backs, and then underneath these are the sweets.
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