A light mist rose from the moors and crept after them, laying its grey hand on the stony paths and distant slopes, and all that had been harsh looked soft and yielding.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Franzi.

“Let’s not talk about that today,” said Minna.

“Why not? Is this some special holiday?”

“Franzi! Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself? With our mother barely cold in her …”

“Oh, words. If Mother were … were still here, I’m sure that’s what she’d be discussing too: can the three of us stay together or can’t we?”

“How can you ask? You know how things are—or don’t you? If you’re heartless enough to raise the subject on a day like this then you’d better speak frankly—and I’ll answer you just as frankly: you can’t go on living as you do now. I’m ready to work harder than ever, I’m already at school from early in the morning until late evening; I’m prepared to work forty-two hours a week. As for you, Minna, you’ve never had a moment to yourself, you’ve done all the work about the house, you’ve spared our mother any trouble, and all free, all without any payment …”

“Don’t talk about it, Henriette,” said Minna.

“But this concerns you, dear Minna,” said Henriette. “All we can afford to rent now is one room and a small kitchen. And however large the room may be, it will hardly be big enough to take the piano. You see, Minna, Franzi’s piano will have to go to leave room for your bed.”

“Are you telling me my piano must go?”

“I don’t say so out of spite, Franzi. You started this yourself. I wouldn’t have stirred up old disagreements today. We’re already in difficulties. I earn a little money, there’ll be a salary of seven hundred miserable gulden, but only when I’m finally fully qualified. Well, I will be some time. Soon, maybe. But what’s such a sum between three people? You tell me! We can pinch and scrape, make do and mend, the arithmetic still doesn’t work out. I’m tired. When I get home in the afternoon I’d like a little rest. But you’re always at that piano. Well, I think, I can’t help thinking: one of us earns our daily bread, one of us stands over the stove, but the third …”

“Ah, yes, the third,” said Franzi, with an ironic smile. “You needn’t say it. I know. I don’t want to live on your miserable money. Not for a single day. That’s why I wanted to talk to you now …”

“Oh, talk!” said Henriette. “What use are all these words? I’ve told you a thousand times. If Mother didn’t like to tell you, at least someone must speak to you frankly. I mean, where is all this leading? What use is all your work? If only you’d been to teacher training college too! How else can we face our future now?”

“And I mean,” said Franzi, “it doesn’t have to be like that. I can earn my living even without going to teacher training college, though maybe not here.”

“Oh no, Franzi,” said Minna. “Whatever happens, we must stay together. I’m sure that’s what Mother would have wanted.”

“No,” said Henriette. “Three is one too many.”

“I know that.