"Examine them at your leisure while I get mother to touch up the kite
with her iron if it isn't dry enough yet."

Then he tripped out and went clattering down-stairs, whistling.

We did not look at the things; we couldn't take any interest in anything
but the clock. We sat staring at it in silence, listening to the
ticking, and every time the minute-hand jumped we nodded recognition--one
minute fewer to cover in the race for life or for death. Finally Seppi
drew a deep breath and said:

"Two minutes to ten. Seven minutes more and he will pass the
death-point. Theodor, he is going to be saved! He's going to--"

"Hush! I'm on needles. Watch the clock and keep still."

Five minutes more. We were panting with the strain and the excitement.
Another three minutes, and there was a footstep on the stair.

"Saved!" And we jumped up and faced the door.

The old mother entered, bringing the kite. "Isn't it a beauty?" she
said. "And, dear me, how he has slaved over it--ever since daylight, I
think, and only finished it awhile before you came." She stood it
against the wall, and stepped back to take a view of it. "He drew the
pictures his own self, and I think they are very good. The church isn't
so very good, I'll have to admit, but look at the bridge--any one can
recognize the bridge in a minute. He asked me to bring it up.... Dear
me! it's seven minutes past ten, and I--"