Käthchen pulled out her books from the dark depths of her huge satchel; but, alas! the light of day revealed upon them many a stain from the berries which had been put into the bag. The child's dismay and her companions' amusement were infinite. Even the schoolmaster could not refrain from smiling as he looked at her terrified little face. "Never mind," he said, "you have suffered enough. Let us see how they look inside." He opened the copy-book, and was evidently pleased with the neat copy. But the sums were in dire confusion. "Käthchen," cried Herr Leonhardt, "if a horse has four legs, how many legs have two horses?" "Six!" was the confident answer. "Käthchen, how many are twice two?" "Eight!" Herr Leonhardt cast to heaven that resigned glance peculiar only to such patient martyrs. "Käthchen, how many fingers, not counting the thumb, are there on your left hand?" Käthchen counted with her right hand the fingers of her left, and triumphantly declared, "Four." "And how many on your right hand?" Again the same process was repeated with the right hand, and the same answer ensued. "That's right! Now, how many are there together?" No answer. "How many fingers have you on both hands?" "Ten!" "Without the thumbs, child,--without either of the thumbs." Käthchen began her arduous task anew. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Another child late?" said Herr Leonhardt, and cried, "Come in." But, instead of the rosy face of a child, a pale countenance, with large, dark eyes, appeared, and gazed almost shyly around the circle. This apparition produced a perfect panic. "Oh, heavens! the Hartwich! Mercy! mercy! the woman of the castle!" and similar exclamations of alarm, were heard from all sides. The children started up,--those who were nearest the door crowded away from it, the larger ones dragged the little ones close to their sides, the Catholics even crossed themselves. An actual uproar began, which even the teacher's voice failed at first to control. Ernestine observed it all without any change in her regular features. Leonhardt approached her respectfully, and would have asked her pardon for the children's folly, but she interrupted him. "On the contrary," she said softly, "it is I who should ask pardon for interrupting your school by my dreaded appearance. I meant to go to your dwelling-room, to take you the linen-cambric handkerchiefs that you need, but not knowing where it was, I knocked here by mistake. Have the kindness, Herr Leonhardt, to relieve me of this parcel, and I will relieve your pupils from their alarm." The old man held out his hand to her, but she did not take it. "Never mind that; such a civility shown to me might deprive you of the children's respect."