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Updated: June 12, 2025
At last she gathered them in, all but one foolish, blank-eyed gander, which, poising on a large boulder, threatened to dive headforemost into the torrent. She coaxed him gently, then severely, but without success. The old man in patches came up. "Let me get him for you, Kindchen," he volunteered. The good-fellowship in his voice impressed her far more than the humble state of his dress.
While here with you it is cool.... I believe I could have a nap." "Well, why not? Go to sleep, my little chick; no one will disturb you here." ... "But I am really ashamed." "What next! Why ashamed? Go to sleep. And I'll sing you ... what do you call it? ... I'll sing you to bye-bye, 'Schlaf, mein Kindchen, Schlafe!" She began singing. "I should like a drink of water first."
Should he, the teacher of the great Koert, be kept waiting for a chit of a girl only, of course, he said "das Kindchen" or some other German equivalent for chit and then have her come into the sacred presence breathless, and salute him between gasps as the Frau Professor Bergmeister?
All day you write, is it not so? And at night you come home to write still more? Ach, Kindchen! Na, we shall change all that. We will be better comrades, we two, yes? You remember that gay little walk of last autumn, when we explored the Michigan country lane at dusk? I shall be your Sunday Schatz, and there shall be more rambles like that one, to bring the roses into your cheeks.
"It is honest work, and that is good." "I meant nothing wrong, Kindchen. But you would find it easier in a milliner's shop, as a lady's maid, something of that order." "With these?" holding out her hands. "It would not take long to whiten them. Do you live alone?" "No. I live with my foster-mother, who is very old. I call her grandmother.
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