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The Story of Marie 81to carry it themselves. Though they were not strong enough tobear the weight of it alone, they helped to carry it, and all ranafter the coffin, crying. Marie’s grave has been kept by the childrenever since; they planted roses around it and deck it withflowers every year.“But it was after the funeral that I was most persecuted bythe villagers on account of the children. The pastor and theschoolmaster were at the bottom of it. The children were strictlyforbidden even to meet me, and Schneider made it his duty to seethat this prohibition was effectual. But we did see each other allthe same; we communicated from a distance by signs. They usedto send me little notes. In the end things were smoothed over;but it was very nice at that time. This persecution brought menearer to the children than ever.“In the last year I was almost reconciled to Thibaut and thepastor. And Schneider argued a great deal with me about mypernicious ‘system’ with children. As though I had a system! Atlast Schneider uttered a very strange thought – it was just beforeI went away. He told me that he had come to the conclusion thatI was a complete child myself, altogether a child; that it was onlyin face and figure that I was like a grown-up person, but that indevelopment, in soul, in character, and perhaps in intelligence,I was not grown up, and that so I should remain if I lived to besixty. I laughed very much. He was wrong, of course, for I am nota child. But in one thing he is right: I don’t like being with grownuppeople. I’ve known that a long time. I don’t like it because Idon’t know how to get on with them. Whatever they say to me,however kind they are to me, I always feel somehow oppressedwith them, and I am awfully glad when I can get away to mycompanions; and my companions have always been children,not because I am a child myself, but simply because I always