FRIENDS OF CHILDHOOD
flying down often to drink at the drip from the water tank. Mrs. Kohler, who was transplanting pansies, came up with her trowel and told Thea it was lucky to have your birthday when the lindens were in bloom, and that she must go and look at the sweet peas. Wunsch accompanied her, and as they walked between the flower-beds he took Thea's hand.
"Es flüstern und sprechen die Blumen"—
he muttered. "You know that von Heine? Im leuchtenden Sommermorgen?" He looked down at Thea and softly pressed her hand.
"No, I don't know it. What does flüstern mean?"
"Flüstern?—to whisper. You must begin now to know such things. That is necessary. How many birthdays?"
"Thirteen. I 'm in my 'teens now. But how can I know words like that? I only know what you say at my lessons. They don't teach German at school. How can I learn?"
"It is always possible to learn when one likes," said Wunsch. His words were peremptory, as usual, but his tone was mild, even confidential. "There is always a way. And if some day you are going to sing, it is necessary to know well the German language."
Thea stooped over to pick a leaf of rosemary. How did Wunsch know that, when the very roses on her wall-paper had never heard it? "But am I going to?" she asked, still stooping.
"That is for you to say," returned Wunsch coldly. "You would better marry some Jacob here and keep the house for him, may-be? That is as one desires."
Thea flashed up at him a clear, laughing look. "No, I don't want to do that. You know," she brushed his coat-sleeve quickly with her yellow head. "Only how can I learn anything here? It 's so far from Denver."
Wunsch's loose lower lip curled in amusement. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he spoke seriously. "Nothing is far and nothing is near, if one desires. The
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