"I think I had better tell you what the young men said to me," said Trudel seriously. "They said I was a sweet little thing, and that if I were older, they would fall in love with me. I laughed of course; I could see they were only silly old stupid heads. I told them they had not much taste; for their military school was the ugliest building in all the town. They quite agreed with me about this, however, and then they asked me who my father was, and when I said he was a professor, they laughed till I thought they would burst. But now you must excuse me, really, mother darling. I have promised to go into the kitchen and wash up cups and saucers!" The landlady could not praise Trudel enough. Such a useful little girl, she does everything in a most orderly way and wipes down the table when she has finished! "If ever you want her to learn housekeeping, pray send her to me, I should be delighted to teach her," she said. "Yes," thought mother, "and make a nice little slavey of her into the bargain. No, no, our Trudel is not going to turn into a housemaid!" If Trudel had been some years older, father and mother might have objected to these experiences; but, as it was, they only laughed. PART IV As the world is full of fact and fancy, so is this story. Whether it is based mostly on fact or on fancy we will leave to the German philosophers to decide, but I have heard that they are doubtful on this point, with regard to the world, I mean. It was a magical evening. Trudel was so engrossed in a game of cards with the boys that she could not be induced to come out; moreover she had a slight cold and the evenings were chilly. A glorious sunset glow illumined the sky as mother and Lottchen set out for their never-to-be-forgotten walk. "We will go up and see the fire on the heath; I love the smell of dry pine wood burning," said mother. "I love to see the fire dancing and crackling," said Lottchen. "How still everything is." "It is the calm of twilight. The wind usually drops in the evening," said mother. "Look, look, over there by those dark woods there is something moving," said Lotty. "I think it is a white cat." "A white cat! How queer that she should have strayed so far; she does not belong to the farm, I know." "Hush! perhaps she is not a cat at all--then she will vanish." And lo and behold when they looked again, there was no cat there, though they had distinctly seen it a minute before on the field at the wood's edge. "She is really a witch, I believe," said mother, with the curious expression on her face that Lotty knew so well. Going further up the hill, they saw a wonderful sight. Twenty or more peasant girls were busy working, hacking the ground, their faces illuminated by the wonderful sunset glow. They wore short full peasant skirts edged with bright-coloured ribbons, and each had a gaily coloured scarf pinned round the neck and bodice.