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Updated: June 26, 2025
Just think, Erick's curls will be burned off and his handsome face will be so marred that we shall not know him." Sally had become as white as snow from fright. "Come quickly, Kaetheli," she said urgently, "we will run after Erick and tell him everything, come!" "It is much too late, why, what do you think," Kaetheli said, "they started early this morning. Erick is already burned."
She would not ask her any more, nor speak of it. Sally should do as she felt, and surrender everything to the dear God. But the mother put two things together in her mind. When Marianne had come to take leave, she had questioned her about Erick's mother and the latter's condition; also whether Marianne knew her maiden name.
I want to see what the boy is like, whom the man dares to place before my eyes as my grandson." The pastor had now to tell of the unfortunate accident of Erick's disappearance, how they had searched so far in vain, but how everything was being done to find the dear boy; therefore he might make his appearance at any moment.
Then she went into her kitchen and soon came back with a cup of steaming hot milk, lifted Erick's head from under the covers, so that his mouth became free, and poured the hot milk in it to make the little fellow warm.
He had sat down unnoticed on a chair, and had listened attentively to the reports, following with his eyes the lively gestures which the excited Erick was making in the zeal of telling his story. Now the reports were finished and for the first time Erick's eyes beheld the stranger in the crowd. The latter beckoned him to come to him; Erick obeyed at once.
Another time a boy with a harmonica had approached the playing children; it was Erick's turn just then to seek the hiders, but threatenings and pleadings were of no avail, he did not seek any more. He placed himself in front of the boy and listened to him; there he remained standing and did not stir. Churi in his hiding-place was about to burst with anger because Erick stopped seeking.
The pastor now walked behind the last of the congregation toward the bench. He stepped into the pew and put his hand on Erick's shoulder and asked kindly: "Why are you weeping so hard, my boy?" "Because because because they sang Mother's song," sobbed Erick. "What is your name?" the pastor asked again. "Erick Dorn," was the answer. Now the pastor knew what to do.
Perhaps once in a while one of the crowd would ask, "What has become of Churi all of a sudden?" and another would answer, "He can go, wherever he likes," and they would turn again to their berries and think no more of him. Meanwhile Sally had remained standing in the same spot and had waited for Erick's call. When it did not come, she began to call, but received no answer.
Meanwhile the tall, strange gentleman had entered the pastor's study below, with the words: "Colonel von Vestentrop, of Denmark. The gentleman will excuse me if I interrupt him." The pastor was so surprised that for a moment he could not collect his wits. Erick's grandfather!
There stood the man bodily before him, whose existence had been to him a mere fairy tale, and the man looked so stately and so commanding, that everyone who beheld him must be inspired with respect. But at the same time there was something winning in his expression, which was familiar to the reverend gentleman from Erick's dear face.
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