embarrassed in his presence than she had been with us. It may have been the
school uniform that did it. But Louis, like the good-hearted lad that he
was, did what he could to make her feel at home. Presently, out we went
into the garden to play, not without an anxious look from Teresa, for she
knew that when Louis came into any situation, he generally caused trouble.
When, however, we returned with our aprons decorated with mud but still
happy, the good old lady heaved a sigh of relief. The fact is, that when
Louis played with us he always acted as he did with the boys at school. But
no matter what happened, Paula seemed afraid of nothing. When it came to
running races, Louis found to his great chagrin, that she could even beat
him at this; and in the other games if she happened to fall and hurt
herself, she'd rub an injured knee with a laugh or sucked a stubbed finger
without further comment, and go on playing as if nothing had happened. But
in spite of entering wholeheartedly into all our fun, it was easy to see
that our servant had well named her, "The daughter of the good God!" She
was always ready to step aside and let others take the first place, and to
yield all her own rights, to recover a ball at whatever distance when a
dispute arose as to, "Who should get it?" or to look for a lost kite, no
matter how thick the brambles might be. No wonder Louis was quite content
to have such an accommodating companion!

Then the moment arrived when we must go back to the house. That fatal time
always seemed to arrive on the wings of the wind. Teresa seldom had any
time to come and call us, but she relied on Louis, as he had a watch.
Beside all that, we could clearly hear the hour strike in the great clock
on Darnetal Church.

"Listen," cried Paula, woefully, "it's nine o'clock, and Teresa said we
must go back to the house at nine."