"No. Who _could_ like them?" "Who? Well, Johannes; but you are an odd child! Do you like animals better?" "Oh, much better--and flowers." "Really, I do, too--sometimes. But that is not right. Father says we must love our friends." "Why is that not right? I like whom I choose whether it is right or not." "Fie, Johannes! Have you no parents, then, nor any one who cares for you? Are you not fond of them?" "Yes," said Johannes, remembering. "I love my father, but not because it is right, nor because he is a human being." "Why, then?" "I do not know--because he is not like other human beings--because he, too, is fond of birds and flowers." "And so am I, Johannes. Look!" And Robinetta called the robin to her hand, and petted it. "I know it," said Johannes. "And I love you very much, too. "Already? That is very soon," laughed the girl. "Whom do you love best of all?" "I love--" Johannes hesitated. Should he speak Windekind's name? The fear that he might let slip that name to human ears was never out of his thoughts. And yet, was not this fair-haired being in blue, Windekind himself? Who else could give him that feeling of rest and happiness? "You!" said he, all at once, looking frankly into the deep blue eyes. Courageously, he ventured a full surrender. He was anxious, though, and eagerly awaited the reception of his precious gift. Again Robinetta laughed heartily, but she pressed his hand, and her look was no colder, her voice no less cordial. "Well, Johannes," said she, "what have I done to earn this so suddenly?" Johannes made no reply, but stood looking at her with growing confidence. Robinetta stood up, and laid her arm about Johannes' shoulders. She was taller than he. Thus they strolled through the woods, and picked great clusters of cowslips, until they could have hidden under the mountain of sun-filled yellow flowers. The little redbreast went with them--flying from branch to branch, and peering at them with its shining little black eyes. They did not speak much, but now and then looked askance at each other. They were both perplexed by this adventure, and uncertain what they ought to think of each other. Much to her regret, Robinetta had soon to turn back. "I must go now, Johannes, but will you not take another walk with me? I think you are a nice little boy," said she in taking her leave. "Tweet! Tweet!" said the robin as he flew after her. When she had gone, and her image alone remained to him, he doubted no more who she was. She was the very same to whom he had given his friendship. The name Windekind rang fainter, and became confused with Robinetta.