Something was just crossing his mind, he said, and then asked, laughingly, if her father still took her on his knee sometimes, as on the day when he had been in the White House. She laughed and said she was a big girl now, and he should not ask such silly questions; but afterwards it came out that all the same she still sat on her father’s knee--“Of course, not astride any more!” she added, laughing. “Yes, that was a nice day,” he said, “and I sat on his other knee. How small we must have been then.” “And we were so pitifully stupid,” she answered, “when I think now how you wanted to whistle, and could not.” “Do you remember that?” he asked, and his eyes sparkled in the consciousness of his present attainments in the art. “Of course,” she replied; “and when you went away you came running back and--do you still remember?” He remembered very well. “Now you can whistle, of course,” she laughed; “at our age that is no longer an accomplishment--even I can do it,” and she pointed her lips in a very funny manner. He was sad that she spoke so slightingly of his art, and reflected whether it would not be better to give up whistling altogether. “Why are you so silent?” she asked. “Are you tired, too?” “Oh no, but you--eh?” Yes; the walk through the sand and the noontide heat had tired her. “Then come into our house and rest,” he cried, with sparkling eyes, for he thought what joy his mother would feel at seeing her. But she refused. “Your father is not kindly disposed towards us, mamma said, and that’s why you may not come for a visit to Helenenthal. Your father would perhaps send me away.” He replied, with a deep blush, “My father would not do that,” and felt much ashamed. She cast a glance towards the Haidehof, which lay scarcely a hundred yards from the road. The red fence shone in the sunshine, and even the gray half-ruined barns looked more cheerful than usual. “Your house looks very nice,” she said, shading her eyes with her left hand. “Oh yes,” he answered, his heart swelling with pride, “and there is an owl nailed to the door of one of the sheds. But it shall become much nicer still,” he added after a little while, seriously, “only let me begin to rule.” And then he set to work to explain to her all his plans for the future. She listened attentively, but when he had finished she said again, “I am tired--I must rest;” and she wanted to sit down on the edge of the ditch. “Not here in the blazing sun,” he cautioned her; “we’ll look out for the first juniper-bush we can find.” She gave him her hand, and let him drag her wearily over the heath, which undulated with molehills like the waves on a lake, and near the edge of the wood there were some solitary juniper-bushes, which stood out like a group of black dwarfs above the level plain. Under the first of these bushes she cowered down, so that its shadow almost entirely shrouded her slight, delicate figure.