"Rosa," she said, "fetch my dress and hang it in front of the stove to get
the creases out. Now, mind, you must look after the children and not sit
up later than half-past eight, and not touch the lamp--you know what will
happen if you do."

"Yes, Mamma," said Rosa, who was nine and felt old enough to manage a
thousand lamps. "But let me stay up--the 'Bub' may wake and want some
milk."

"Half-past eight!" said the Frau. "I'll make the father tell you too."

Rosa drew down the corners of her mouth.

"But...but..."

"Here comes the father. You go into the bedroom and fetch my blue silk
handkerchief. You can wear my black shawl while I'm out--there now!"

Rosa dragged it off her mother's shoulders and wound it carefully round her
own, tying the two ends in a knot at the back. After all, she reflected,
if she had to go to bed at half past eight she would keep the shawl on.
Which resolution comforted her absolutely.

"Now, then, where are my clothes?" cried Herr Brechenmacher, hanging his
empty letter-bag behind the door and stamping the snow out of his boots.
"Nothing ready, of course, and everybody at the wedding by this time. I
heard the music as I passed. What are you doing? You're not dressed. You
can't go like that."

"Here they are--all ready for you on the table, and some warm water in the