Mea was more eager than ever now to meet Leonore, for she was already filled with a warm love for the sick child.

She could talk and think of practically nothing but Leonore.
"I certainly have to make a song about this violent new friendship," Kurt said in the evening, when Mea had urged more than once, "Oh, mother, I hope you won't let Leonore go as soon as she can come down and the doctor says she is well; otherwise we shall barely be able to become acquainted." Mea flared like a rocket at her brother's suggestion, crying violently, "Indeed you won't, Kurt." "Mea, Mea," the mother admonished her, "I propose to do all I can to keep Leonore here as long as possible, but--" "But, Mea, she might be put to flight with fear and never be seen again if you attack your poor brothers in such a way," Kurt quickly concluded the mother's sentence.
Mea had to laugh over this speech, which little resembled her mother's style of talking.
"My dear Kurt," she said, "I am quite able to complete a sentence without your assistance.

I wanted to say that I should not be able to do very much, because the ladies will take Leonore when it suits them best.

I have to admit, however, that there was some truth in Kurt's reply.
Leonore has such a delicate, refined nature that it might frighten her to see you carried away by such passion, Mea." When the doctor came back again in two days he was surprised at the improved condition of his little patient.

"If she was not so very young," the doctor said to Mrs.Maxa while she accompanied him out of the room, "I should say that her illness came largely from some hidden sorrow and inner suffering.