thirty-five-cent rebate his landlady allowed him when he ate out; and we
had chicken every Wednesday night, which cost--a fat one--never more
than fifty cents. (It was Uncle K. who wrote, "The world is so different
with Carl gone!") Once we rented bicycles and rode all through the
Tiergarten, Carl and I, with the expected stiffness and soreness next
day.

Then there was Christmas in Berlin. Three friends traveled up from Rome
to be with us, two students came from Leipzig, and four from
Berlin--eleven for dinner, and four chairs all told. It was a regular
"La Bohême" festival--one guest appearing with a bottle of wine under
his arm, another with a jar of caviare sent him from Russia. We had a
gay week of it after Christmas, when the whole eleven of us went on some
Dutch-treat spree every night, before going back to our studies.

Then came those last grueling months in Berlin, when Carl had a
breakdown, and I got sick nursing him and had to go to a German
hospital; and while I was there Jim was threatened with pneumonia and
Nandy got tonsillitis. In the midst of it all the lease expired on our
Wohnung, and Carl and Anna had to move the family out. We decided that
we had had all we wanted of coaching in Berlin,--we came to that
conclusion before any of the breakdowns,--threw our pride to the winds,
borrowed more money from my good father, and as soon as the family was
well enough to travel, we made for our ever-to-be-adored Heidelberg.




CHAPTER VI