Kate did not answer her: that was really too great an impertinence, quite an unheard-of impertinence. How could she ask so boldly? But all at once she was filled with doubt: did she know anything about it? She looked into her innocent eyes. This woman had probably been deceived as she had been. She had not the heart to explain matters--poor mother! So she only nodded and said evasively: "Quite well, thanks." They were silent, both feeling a certain embarrassment. Frau Laemke peeled the potatoes for dinner and put them on, now and then casting a furtive look at the lady who sat waiting. Kate was pale and tried to hide her yawns; her agitation had been followed by a feeling of great exhaustion. For was she not waiting in vain? And this mother would also wait in vain to-day. The girl, that hypocrite, was not coming. Kate was seized with something akin to fury when she thought of the girl's fair hair. That was what had led her boy astray, that had bewitched him--perhaps he could not throw her off now. "Always your--your Frida Laemke"--she had sulked in that letter, he had probably wanted to draw back but--"if you don't come I shall come to you,"--oh, she would no doubt take care not to let him go, she held him fast. Kate did not believe that Frida Laemke would come home. It was getting on for two o'clock. Her mother had lied, perhaps she was acting in concert with the girl all the time. But now Kate gave a start, a step was heard on the cellar steps, and on hearing it her mother said, delighted: "That's Frida." Someone hummed a tune outside--then the door opened. Frida Laemke was wearing a dark fur toque on her fair hair now, instead of the little sailor hat; it was imitation fur, but two pigeon wings were stuck in on one side, and the hat suited her pert little face well. Kate was standing in the greatest agitation; she had jumped up and was looking at the girl with burning eyes. So she had really come. She was there but Wolfgang, where was he? She quite shouted at the girl as she said: "Do you know where my son is--Wolfgang--Wolfgang Schlieben?" Frida's rosy face turned white in her surprise. She wanted to say something, stammered, hesitated, bit her lips and got scarlet. "How should I know? I don't know." "You know very well. Don't tell a lie." Kate seized hold of Frida violently by both her slender arms. She would have liked to catch hold of her fair hair and scream aloud whilst tearing it out: "My boy! Give me back my boy!" But she had not the strength to go on shaking her until she had forced her to confess. Frida's blue eyes looked at her quite openly, quite frankly, even if there seemed to be a slight anxiety in her glance. "I've not seen him for a long time, ma'am," she said honestly. And then her voice grew softer and there was a certain anxiety in it: "He used to come here formerly, but he never does now--does he, mother?"