No contradiction! go, Trude!" The servant understood the cold, commanding tone of the mother, and dared not disobey.
"It is nothing good that they have to tell her," grumbled Trude, as she hurried up the stairs which led from the first story into the little, low room in the attic, under the sloping roof.

Here and there a few tiles could be lifted, which lighted the garret sufficiently to show the door at the end.

"May I come in, my dear Fraulein?
it is Trude." "The door is open," cried a sweet voice, and Trude entered.

It is a most charming little room, just that of a young girl.

The bed has a snow-white covering, and white curtains, suspended from a hook in the wall around it.