She had many hopes for Cornelli on account of this daily intercourse with the charming boy, whose clear brow was never troubled and who could so quickly drive away the clouds from his friend's face.
As soon as Cornelli left the little house and was approaching her own garden, everything changed back to the old condition.

Martha, looking after the child, could always see the fearful looking hair that so strangely disfigured the little girl's pretty face.

Then she would sigh deeply and would say to herself: It seems like a disease, but who can help her?
Oh, if our blessed lady had seen her child so terribly disfigured! Cornelli was very much surprised when she found that Saturday evening had come again, for the last two weeks had flown by very fast.
She ran through the garden.

Under the plum tree lay the last fully ripened dark gold plums.

Cornelli picked them up; they were really splendid, but they had given her no pleasure that year.