Our old servant was at her wits' end.
"Come, Axel, come, you miserable wretch," my uncle cried from as far off as he could see me.

"Your boxes are not packed, and my papers are not arranged; where's the key of my carpet bag?
and what have you done with my gaiters ?" I stood thunderstruck.

My voice failed.

Scarcely could my lips utter the words: "Are we really going ?" "Of course, you unhappy boy! Could I have dreamed that you would have gone out for a walk instead of hurrying your preparations forward ?" "Are we to go ?" I asked again, with sinking hopes.
"Yes; the day after to-morrow, early." I could hear no more.

I fled for refuge into my own little room.
All hope was now at an end.