It was
her only knowledge of true child-life. As she sewed, she was planning and
puzzling her brain with plans for prolonging their stay, but could think
of nothing that seemed likely to be of use.
It was now eleven o'clock. Rolf came scampering home from his recitations,
and catching sight of his mother through the open door of the kitchen, he
ran to her, calling out before he reached the threshold, "Mamma, mamma,
now guess. My first--"
"My dear Rolf" interrupted his mother, "I beg of you to find some one else
to guess. I have not time now, truly. Go find Paula, she has just gone
into the sitting-room."
Rolf obeyed.
"Paula," he called out, "My first--"
"No, Rolf, please, not just now, I am looking for my blank-book to write
my French translation in. There is Miss Hanenwinkel, she is good at
guessing, ask her."
"Miss Hanenwinkel," cried poor Rolf, pouncing upon her, "My first--"
"Not a moment, not a second, Rolf," said the governess hastily. "There is
Mr. Julius over there in the corner, letting the little one crack nuts
for him.
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