Page - 98 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

“Well and good, but don’t talk long, boys.” So the house-father, after which Simmerl went to his parents, kissed their hands and said “Good night.” This custom pleased me mightily, and I resolved to introduce it also into my home. I never got so far as that; I had always been ashamed of being entirely naughty to my parents, but also of being quite good, and in particular it had been impossible to me to show certain courtesies, much as I liked them. I gathered from the order “not to talk long” that we had permission to talk, and as we lay, each in his little bed, having put out the light, so that nothing more was to be seen than the two faintly lighted square windows, I asked Simmerl, “What was wrong with that fellow Kickel?” “Cherry-stones,” answered the lad. “Why did he get so wild?” “Oh, poor old Kickel!” said my comrade. “Don’t you know that he was in prison for ten years? Last year they let him out.” “Why?” “Because the Kaiser was married.” “What, they locked him up for that?” “No, that’s why they let him out.” “But, good Lord, I want to know why they put him in prison,” I cried. “If you shout like that father will come with the strap. He killed his son.” This was horrible. I did not know whether Kickel or House-father Zutrum had killed his son. I dared question no farther, and when I did try it later Simmerl gave no answer, for he was asleep. Next morning we were awakened by a clear voice, “Schoolboys, it’s time!” A bough of elder swayed about in front of the heart-shaped opening in the shutter, and through it the sun shone hot and bright on to our snow-white beds, and the house-spring splashed outside. I should have liked to dress at the same time as Simmerl, but was shy about drawing my legs from under the coverlet. With a long arm I drew my trousers from the bench into bed, and slipped them on to my limbs with a suggestive slickness, and so out to the spring. After the washing the morning prayers. Simmerl, out of consideration for his guest, would have gone out during these, suggesting that he would then take me to the grey horse in the stable; but his mother said, “He will see enough grey horses during his life; you need the Holy Spirit in school. Now say your morning prayer. Both kneel together.” We knelt on the bench before the table, and each said an Our Father to