Mr.
Trius's only harvest is hay and apples, and that is all he wants apparently, because he has thrown everything else out.

Please do not think that I am swimming in pure peace here because no boys are stamping down my garden.

Oh, no! It is very difficult to read my Sunday psalm in peace when I am given such a bitter soup of grief to swallow as I got yesterday.

It keeps on burning me, and still I have to swallow it." "You probably mean the Knippel-soup from yesterday ?" Kurt interrupted, full of lively interest.

Loneli had only just told him that things had gone very badly the day before when she had returned home all soiled from her fall and with the empty milk-bottle.