Gritli's Children

WHAT OSCAR FOUNDED AND WHAT EMMA PLANNED.

Feklitus took very kindly to the idea of making the speech at the Musical Festival, and told his parents at once of the coming event. This announcement made a great sensation in the household of Mr. Bickel, who at once ordered a new suit and a new pair of boots for the boy; and both parents determined to go and hear him speak. A change had come over the boy since this proposal had been made to him. He became very silent and went about with his head bowed and his brows knit as if oppressed with heavy thoughts.

One afternoon he came out of school and made one great spring from the upper step to the ground. It was not from joyfulness of heart that he made this leap, but because the sudden pressure of those who came behind him gave him an irresistible impulse, and he could not stop for the single steps. He did not go on with the other boys, but turned round the corner of the school-house, and waited there till all the girls had passed out, in groups of two and three, and, last of all, Elsli came hurrying along alone; she had been delayed by waiting to write out her exercise for the next day. Suddenly she felt herself seized from behind and held fast.

"Let me go, Feklitus," she cried; "I am in a hurry; Nora is waiting for me."

"I want to ask you something first," said the boy, "and then you may go."

He spoke in a masterful voice, and held fast to the child's frock.

"Tell me this; if you were going to make a speech at a musical festival, how should you begin?"

"What a stupid question, Feklitus! when you know perfectly well that I should never do such a thing!" And Elsli tried to pull her dress away from the boy's hand; but he held her fast.

"I didn't say you would; but suppose you did,—you can suppose anything,—how would you begin?"

"I don't know, I'm sure; I never thought anything about it in my life."

"Come, now, if you don't tell me, I'll keep you here till after dark. Come; I'll just make a beginning, to start you. Begin: Highly respected gentlemen and brothers—now, what next?"

"Let me go; I really ought to go. I have no idea what to say next."

"What an obstinate girl you are!" cried Feklitus angrily; "I'll punish you for this before long; when you come into the factory, you'll catch it; you see if you don't!"

This vague threat frightened Elsli the more from its very vagueness; so she thought for a moment, and then began;—

"Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! Now that we have sung together, let us rejoice together; and enjoy a long, long festival!"

As Elsli spoke, Feklitus relaxed his hold of her, as she had hoped he would do; and instantly she darted away like an arrow shot from a bow; and before Feklitus had recovered from his surprise, she had gone beyond pursuit. The boy looked thoughtfully after her retreating figure for a few moments, and then went towards home.

On the next Sunday the great Musical Festival was to take place; and the banner would be ready but just in season. The day before, there was to be a rehearsal of the performance, so that Feklitus might try his speech, and the order of the procession be arranged. A table-cloth tied to a pole was to take the place of the unfinished banner.

It is needless to say that there was but little appetite for dinner at Dr. Stein's table on this Saturday; Oscar rose as soon as he could hope to be excused, and Emma did not remain any longer. She had scarcely taken her eyes from the clock since she sat down, and had answered at cross purposes all dinner-time.

"What are you children about now, that you are in such a tremendous hurry?" asked their father, as they were leaving the room. Emma did not wait to answer.

But Oscar said:—

"You will see to-morrow. To-day we are going to put up the stand for the speaker and to arrange the procession. You'll be surprised, I'm sure. Of course you'll come and hear Feklitus speak?"

"With pleasure. Your mother and aunt will go too, I'm sure. Are you one of the company, Fred?"

"No, indeed. I have more important things to interest me. It is of more use to find and to study the smallest common frog than to attend a thousand musical festivals."

Rikli started as if she thought he was going to produce a specimen of frog from his pocket at that moment. Oscar cast a look of pity upon his brother, and left the room.

That afternoon as Mrs. Stein and her sister sat out in the garden, with their work-basket on the table between them, the former said:—

"It is singular how things repeat themselves. When the children tell us how Feklitus is constantly running after Elsli, though no one can understand why, it reminds me of times long ago when his father, stout Fekli, used to pursue Gritli, and how she used to run on before him, looking back now and then and calling out with a laugh:—

A piercing shriek broke in upon the laugh which followed the repetition of this long-forgotten couplet, and they both sprang to their feet; but immediately recognizing the voice, they sat quietly down again, and resumed their work.

"It is only Rikli," said her mother; "she is always in a fright about nothing."

"Fred is probably amusing himself at her expense with some beetle or frog," said the aunt. "I can't help being sorry for the child, and it's too bad of Fred; but it's useless to run to her every time she screams."

Just then the sound of singing arose from the other side of the garden, apparently trying to overpower the noise of the child's cry, and they heard the words:—

"That's Fred!" exclaimed Mrs. Stein. "So he is certainly not with Rikli." And as the little girl's shrieks grew louder she began to think something serious was the matter, and the two ladies started away in the direction of the sound. Poor Rikli was indeed in a wretched plight. She was standing in a ditch, covered quite to her neck in the muddy water, and holding up her arms above her head, in an effort to protect it from the many little green frogs that were sporting about her. Aunty reached her first, and, taking the little girl by the arm, she quickly rescued her from her uncomfortable position. As soon as Rikli found herself in safety, she exclaimed reproachfully:—

"Why didn't you come when I called you first?"

They did not stop to answer her, but hurried her into the house, and forthwith into the bath-tub without delay. After the necessary scrubbing and cleansing were over, Rikli put her question again, and the explanation she received was likely to impress upon her the folly of unnecessary alarm, and the certainty that her cries would be unheeded as long as she persisted in uttering them so needlessly.

All this time Oscar was occupied with assembling his chorus in the place chosen for the festival, that the rehearsal might be conducted in due order, except the currant-wine and gingerbread, which naturally were reserved for the festival itself, which was to come off next day. The stage was made of four posts, stuck into the ground, and covered with boards.

The moment for beginning the performance arrived; Feklitus mounted the platform.

"Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! now that we have sung together so well, let us rejoice together; and celebrate the event with a great feast, and all touch glasses together."

With these words, spoken in a loud but rather hurried voice, Feklitus bowed to the company, and came down from the stage.

"Go on, go on with your speech!" shouted every one.

"Why, that's all; and then we must all touch glasses," said Feklitus, who was quite satisfied and elated at having got through so well.

But at his words arose a great uproar; the boys wanted more, and insisted on Feklitus' going on. Oscar alone said not a word; he was transfixed with one thought, that had been suggested by the first words of this brief speech. "Now that we have sung!" To be sure, it had not occurred to him that to have a Musical Festival successful, there ought to be some music. But it was not too late yet to repair the oversight. Controlling his mortification at his blunder, he sprang to the platform, and tried to call the attention of the noisy crowd.

"Here, fellows, listen to me! Be quiet! I want to tell you something important!" and as the noise began to subside, he shouted:—

"We must have some singing! Who of you can sing? We'll find a song, and then learn it. Who can sing?"

But no one came forward; no one could sing! Feklitus declared that there was no need of singing; a speech, a procession, a banner, a collation; why did they want anything else? But Oscar was determined to have a song, and suddenly he thought of Fani. Where was Fani? He could sing, and should sing. But Fani was not to be found, and soon the assembly broke up; the members scattered, and the platform raised its head in solitary grandeur.

Oscar ran home in a state of tremendous excitement. What would become of his much-boasted festival if he could get no music for it? His father's jests, Fred's air of superiority, all the mortifying consequences rankled in his mind. Fani must be found, and if only he would lead, the rest must somehow be got to join in.

As he reached the house, he met Emma just coming home.

"Where is Fani?" he asked. "Have you been putting him up to something that has made him desert us and go off with you instead?"

Emma colored, but did not reply; she went on into the house, as if she did not hear a word that Oscar said. As she came into the sitting-room, Kathri opened the opposite door, saying:—

"Marget is here, asking if any one has seen Fani? she wants him in a hurry, and has been hunting everywhere for him."

Emma's face and neck became flaming red; she seized her aunt's hand, and drew her out of the room. Mrs. Stein went into the kitchen to see what Marget's haste was. She learned that Mr. Bickel had just been to her house to say that he wanted Fani immediately in the factory; he had a place for him at once. He needn't leave school, but could come in the afternoon and on holidays, and he would earn quite a good bit of money directly. Marget had been trying in vain to find Fani, to come and talk to her cousin; she was very much afraid that the great man would be angry at being kept waiting, and Fani would lose the place.

Mrs. Stein told Marget that she would send Oscar to look everywhere for the missing boy, and Marget went home.

Meantime, Emma had drawn her aunt into her own room, and as soon as they were safely inside, with the door shut, she began in imploring tones:—

"Oh, aunty, help me! help me! so that no harm will come of it, and that papa may not be angry with me, and make Fani's mother understand how splendid it is going to be, and that Fani will be a great painter by and by. He has gone to Basel to-day!"

"To Basel! I hope you are not in earnest, Emma!" said her aunt, much disturbed.

"Yes, it is really true, aunty. Do go to Fani's mother and explain to her that it's all right, and don't let her come to papa about it. I'll tell you just how it was, and then you can tell Marget. I saw an advertisement in a newspaper the other day, like this, 'A decorator in Basel wants a lad, about twelve years of age, to do light work and learn the business.' Then the address was given. I showed it to Fani, and we both thought that it would be a good chance for him to learn to paint, and at the same time to earn something, so that he needn't go into the factory. Don't you remember that you said a decorator meant a beautifier, and Fred said it meant a scene-painter? Fani can paint roses and flowers and garlands, and he wanted awfully to go. At first he said he must ask his mother; but then he thought it would be no use, because she said painting was no work at all, but only nonsense. So we planned that he should just go off; and then, if they asked where he was, I should tell them; and as soon as he can, he is to write and tell them that he is going to be a painter."

"This is terrible!" exclaimed her aunt.

"You've done great mischief, Emma. What will become of him, and how will he get to Basel without money?"

Emma said she had given him all her own money, and he could certainly reach Basel, and if only aunty would go and tell his mother about it, all would be right. Aunty lost no time. She went directly to Heiri's cottage, and met Mr. Bickel coming out from the door-way.

"As I have said," was his closing remark, "I will soon put a stop to his loafing; for I will cut off his wages every hour that he idles."

"You can't cut down his wages, Cousin Bickel, before he begins to have any," said Marget to herself as Mr. Bickel marched off with his most important air.

Aunty went into the little house. The outer door opened into the kitchen, and beyond was the living-room. The door between stood open, and through it could be seen two very old cradles, and the wash-tub stood near the door in the kitchen, so that as she stood at her work Marget could watch the three little boys and the baby at the same time. Although Hans was now two years old, he still had a cradle, which served as a bed at night, and as a means of quieting him by day. Whenever he set up his accustomed scream, his mother laid him into the cradle, where, soothed by the rocking motion, he soon fell asleep. The two older brothers, Rudi and Heirli, standing one each side of the cradle, pushed it back and forth with great good-will.

Aunty sat down by the wash-tub, and, after begging Marget to go on with her work, she began gently to unfold her story, winding up with the offer of writing immediately to Basel, to find out how Fani was situated, and on what terms his master had taken him. Then, if everything was not satisfactory, he could be brought home again. In Marget's ears still lingered her Cousin Bickel's threat about cutting down wages. Perhaps Fani wouldn't earn much at the factory after all. If he were in Basel, she should not have his food to provide, and if he could earn enough to clothe himself while learning a trade, it would probably be better than he could do at home, and no trouble to her either. As these calculations passed through Marget's mind, she concluded not to oppose the boy's wishes, and she assured her visitor that his father would be satisfied if the doctor's family thought it a good arrangement, and would some of them look after the boy a little. It was a great relief to Emma's kind aunt that so little blame was likely to attach to the girl for the consequences of her rash advice; and now she concluded her visit with some inquiries about Elsli. Marget's report was favorable. Elsli spent all her time out of school at Oak-ridge, and was very happy in her work. Marget got along very well with the children, and certainly the liberal pay which Elsli brought home every day was a great gain; to say nothing of many clothes which the sick child could not use, and which would clothe Elsli for a long time to come. All this was pleasant tidings, and aunty went home with a much lighter heart. About half-way home she met Oscar coming to meet her. He darted towards her, and at once began to pour out the story of the unlucky musical festival; how he had entirely forgotten that there must be music, and how he dreaded the ridicule he should encounter when the mistake was discovered. He saw but one means of escape; if he could change the name of the festival, so that no music need be expected; then, by altering the motto a little, and changing some words in the speech—didn't aunty think it could be done?

No; she did not think that idea practicable. "You see, Oscar," she said, "a celebration must celebrate something, an anniversary or some interesting event. As there is nothing of the kind in this case, I really think your only course, since you have no music ready, is to give up the festival entirely for the present, and wait till you have something to celebrate."

Poor Oscar! he was terribly disappointed; yet he could not but acknowledge that his aunt was right, and he followed her into the house, dreading his father's questions and the discovery that was sure to follow. Supper was just ready as they entered the house, so that Emma could not satisfy her eager desire to know the result of her aunt's mission; so that she, as well as Oscar, sat at the table in troubled silence, both absorbed in secret fears, and both hoping, if they did not speak, that they should escape being spoken to. Fred noticed their unusual demeanor, and presently he remarked, slyly:

"There is a bird called the ostrich, Struthio which has a habit of hiding its head in the sand, believing that, in so doing, he conceals himself from the hunter. This bird is sometimes seen in this neighborhood, and his usual food is potato-salad."

Oscar took no notice of this bit of sarcasm, but remained intent on his potato-salad; but his father, who was watching him, laughed and said:—

"Is he overpowered by the pleasures of the approaching festival?"

As no farther questions followed, and the supper went on without any inquiries about Fani, both Oscar and Emma rose from the table with easier minds. The danger was not yet over, of blame for Emma and ridicule for Oscar; but they had gained time, and they breathed more freely as they turned again to their aunt for help and advice.

AT SUNSET.

Elsli continued to go daily to the little invalid, and, from the first visit, she had been a dear friend and companion to the sick girl, who would not hear of her going on errands, but kept her by her own side from the moment she came, till it was time to go home. Mrs. Stanhope, whose only object in life was her little girl's happiness, was more than pleased with this arrangement; and watched with delight as Nora grew, from day to day, more cheerful and even lively in the companionship of a girl of her own age. And Elsli, too, profited by the intercourse; she was of a yielding nature and easily took new impressions, and now that she passed all her time in refined society, she insensibly grew into its likeness; and her voice, her manners, her way of speaking, all seemed assimilated to those of a very different way of life from that to which she had been accustomed. Was it that this new way was really more suited to her nature than the old?

The two girls studied together every day Elsli's lessons for the morrow, greatly to the pleasure and advantage of both. To Elsli especially, it was a new and delightful sensation to go to her class with a perfectly prepared lesson, and to hear the praises which the teacher daily bestowed upon her improvement; while Nora, whose invalidism had long cut her off from her books, found a fresh zest in resuming her studies with her eager friend. After lessons came supper, and then the evening with its long talks. These were generally about the beautiful country, to which Nora hoped soon to go, and where Elsli followed her in sympathetic thought. One regret began to dim Nora's satisfaction at the prospect; the thought that they couldn't go together; and Elsli would say, sadly, "If you should go and leave me here alone, how could I bear it?"

At last September came, with its cool but sunny days. One evening, as the children sat at the window looking across the meadows towards the setting sun; from a dark cloud that hung in the western sky, a great flood of shining light suddenly poured down across the valley, illuminating the trees, the grass, and the shrubs with its dazzling radiance.

"Look! look!" cried Nora, "that is the crystal stream! there it comes rolling toward me! Oh, I wish I could go there now! It is certainly the promised land, where we all shall be so happy. Come nearer to me, Elsli. I feel so weak I cannot sit up alone."

Elsli sat close by her, and drew the tired head to rest upon her shoulder; and so the two friends sat, silently gazing at the wonderful sight, until at last the sun disappeared behind the woods, and slowly the mists of evening filled the valley, and all the glory was over.

But for Nora it had only just begun. When her mother came in from the next room, she thought her little girl was asleep on Elsli's shoulder. She was asleep, indeed; but she would never awaken on earth. Mrs. Stanhope took her in her arms, and burst into tears.

"Run, Elsli, for the doctor, as fast as you can!" cried she, and Elsli ran. The doctor was not at home, but Mrs. Stein soon saw the truth, from Elsli's answers to her many questions.

"Dear little Nora!" she said sadly. "Her sufferings are over forever. She has gone to heaven to be at rest."

Elsli stood as if struck by lightning.

"Is she gone? Is Nora really gone to heaven?" she exclaimed, and then she burst into tears, and trembled so that she could scarcely stand.

"My dear child," said the doctor's wife tenderly, taking Elsli by the hand, "come and sit down with me a little while, till you feel better."

But Elsli could not. She covered her face with her apron, and ran out of the house, crying bitterly.

"Oh, how could she go and leave me behind?" she kept saying to herself as she hurried back to Oak-ridge. She found Mrs. Stanhope still bending over Nora, and sobbing as when she left her. Elsli seated herself on Nora's footstool, and wept in silence. It was not long before the doctor came. He bent over the child's form a moment, and then turned to the mother.

"Mrs. Stanhope," he said, and his tones were very tender, "I can do nothing. Your little girl is gone. I will send my wife to you."

Mrs. Stein came, but her words brought no comfort to the bereaved mother. She heard nothing; she saw nothing but the quiet little form that lay lifeless before her. When Mrs. Stein was convinced that she could be of no use to her, she went across the room to Elsli, who sat weeping on the footstool by the window, and taking her by the hand, she led her out of the room, saying gently:—

"Now it is best for you to go home, my dear. We will not forget you, and remember that our Father in heaven never forgets his children. Think how well and happy Nora is! She will never be ill again, in that land where the weary are at rest."

"If she had only taken me with her," moaned poor Elsli, and when Mrs. Stein left her, as their ways parted, she could hear the sobbing child for a long time as she slowly walked, with her apron over her eyes, along the lane that led to her home.

At home, Mrs. Stein found the children grouped about their aunt, who was telling them about Nora. Fred had many questions to ask about death, and how people can die and come to life again. Emma was much depressed, for she felt, now that it was too late, that she had not done anything to make Nora's illness more cheerful.

That evening Mrs. Stein and her sister were full of anxious thought. They felt keen sympathy with the sorrowing mother at Oak-ridge, and they talked a great deal about the blow that had fallen upon poor little Elsli. She had not only lost a friend whose companionship had brought her new life, but she must now go back to the hard and uncongenial labor from which she had had a brief and blessed respite. Fani too, the only bright spot in her dark lot, was away now, and who could tell when she would have him again? Indeed, Fani's fate was also a source of anxiety, especially on account of Emma's share in his disappearance. Would all turn out right for the boy? Would he get a suitable education, and what sort of a future lay before him? The information they had obtained from Basel had not proved perfectly satisfactory. The scene-painter had, to be sure, taken Fani into his service, but the boy had nothing to do with the painting but to clean up the brushes and palettes, and grind the colors; and, although he had his board and lodging from his master, he must pay for his clothes himself. It was not a very promising outlook for Fani. His parents were willing to have him stay away from home, but they expected him at least to support himself, if not to send them some money occasionally. Mrs. Stein could not decide what ought to be done, and all this new care would have been a very heavy burden to bear, if her sister had not lightened it by her sympathy and encouragement. Aunty's cheerful spirit always inspired hope and confidence.

The next morning, Emma, with a downcast air, asked leave to take some flowers over to lay upon the bed by Nora. Her mother was glad to let her go, and glad too that Fred offered to accompany his sister. The children were admitted to the house, and shown into the room where Nora lay upon a snow-white bed; herself as white and cold as marble.

Mrs. Stanhope was kneeling by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet. Emma laid her flowers upon the bed, and, with fast flowing tears, looked upon the peaceful face, and remembered sadly that she had not done a friendly act for the little invalid, nor helped to wile away her lonely hours. She left the room sorry and ashamed, regretting her selfishness, when it was too late to do any good.

A little while after, Mrs. Stein came softly into the quiet room. Mrs. Stanhope raised her head, and, as she returned the kindly greeting, her grief broke out, and she exclaimed with sobs:—

"Oh, if you knew how miserable I am! Why—ah, why! does God take from me my only child? Fortune and lands, everything else he might have taken, if he would only have left me my child! This is the very hardest fate that could have befallen me! Why must I suffer more than any one else in the world?"

"Dear Mrs. Stanhope," said the doctor's wife, as she took the poor lady's hand and pressed it tenderly in her own; "I feel for your sorrow, but I beg you to think of what your child has gained. God has taken her to himself, and she is free from pain and weariness forevermore, in his sheltering arms. You do not know what poverty means! Think of the many mothers who only see their children grow up to hard labor, and suffer for want of food and clothing. Take the sorrow that God has sent you; do not try to measure it with that of others; the sorrow that comes to each seems the heaviest for each to bear. But our Father knows why he has given each sorrow, and the road he leads us is the one best for us to follow."

Mrs. Stanhope became more tranquil as these words fell on her ear, but her face still wore an expression of inconsolable grief. She was silent a few moments, and then she told Mrs. Stein that she meant to take Nora home and lay her beside the little boy in the garden by the Rhine, and that she should send to her true friend and house-keeper Clarissa to come at once to Oak-ridge to make the preparations for their return, and accompany her on her painful journey. This arrangement was a great relief to Mrs. Stein, who returned home with an easier mind, and hastened to impart this bit of good news to her sister. But aunty was nowhere to be found, and Emma, who was sitting alone in an unusually subdued mood, told her mother that she was probably with Fred, who had been looking for her, "to show her a beetle or some such thing," she supposed! So Mrs. Stein sat down with her little girl, who wanted to ask her questions about Nora. Emma longed to hear that Nora had not suffered from her neglect, and had been contented and happy without her; for she had been feeling more and more how selfish she had been in never repeating her first visit, merely because she had not herself enjoyed it, never thinking what she might have done for poor sick Nora.

Fred had sought his aunt for a long time, and when he found her he carried her off to a remote part of the garden, where stood a lonely summer-house. There he drew her down beside him on a bench, and said he had something to say to her alone.

"Do you know, aunty, I saw Nora to-day, and she is dead; and I cannot see how she can come to life again, and go to heaven."

"You cannot understand that, Fred? Neither can I. But the good God does many things which we cannot understand, and yet we know they are. And as we are told by One whom we can trust that we shall live again after our body dies, we must believe it. I believe it, Fred, with all my heart."

"But," argued Fred, "I have always thought that life is the same in men as in animals, and when an animal dies, it can never be made alive again. I have noticed that myself."

At this moment, the conversation was interrupted, for they saw the doctor in the garden, and aunty hastened to join him, as she had promised to visit his cauliflowers with him this evening.

Fred sat still lost in thought; he did not care for cauliflowers.

A LAST JOURNEY AND A FIRST.

A large travelling-carriage passed by the door of the doctor's house, in which sat alone, a lady clothed in black. It was Clarissa, who had come to carry little Nora to her home by the Rhine. The doctor's four children were standing in the garden, and they watched it as it passed, thinking what a sad journey its occupant must have had. Their aunt stood at an upper window watching it also, and as it disappeared round the corner she beckoned Fred to come up to her in his room. He came running up the stairs.

"See, Fred! I am clearing your room up a little. There are a great many useless things here; why should you keep them? See; in this box is a dead creature; let's begin with this, and throw it away"; and as she spoke she carried the box towards a window.

"What are you doing, aunty?" cried the boy. "That is my very best chrysalis; it will turn into a beautiful moth by and by; one of the finest of our butterflies, with wonderful marks on its wings."

"What nonsense!" said his aunt. "This little creature is utterly dead; don't you see it is stiff and motionless."

"Don't you know about caterpillars, aunty dear?" exclaimed the boy, holding fast to his box. "I'll tell you about it. This is a chrysalis; and it seems entirely dead, but it's only the outside that is dead. Inside, where we cannot see it, lies something that is alive; and by and by, when the time comes, this shell will be cast off, for there will be no farther use for it, and out will fly a new lovely creature with exquisite wings."

"But, Fred, I don't understand how that can be possible! How can a poor worm, that only crawls about all its life, die, and then suddenly turn into a beautiful new creature with wings, and fly away leaving its old body behind? Do you understand it, Fred?"

"No, I don't understand it, but I know it's so."

"Well, my dear boy," said his aunt, seriously, "what if there was something hidden within little Nora, which was alive too, and which, leaving the poor dead shell behind, has flown on shining wings away to distant heights, where it is entering on a new and happy life!"

Fred stood thoughtful a few moments, and then said, "I never thought of it in that way, aunty. Now I shall have a very different idea about Nora. How glad she must be to fly away on her new wings from the sick body in which she was imprisoned! Are not you glad, aunty, that you know about the chrysalis, and isn't it wonderful?"

"It certainly is; and it teaches us that there are many things about us that we cannot understand, and yet which are true, though no one can explain them. So by and by, Fred, when you are a learned man, as I hope you will be, when you come to something you cannot understand in nature, you must say modestly, 'This is beyond my powers of explanation; this is the work of God'; and so stand reverently before his greatness, that is about and above us all."

Fred handled his chrysalis with respect as he laid it away with his other treasures. A new thought had come to him about that and about other things.

Clarissa had arrived; but her coming did not bring comfort to the sorrowing mother; on the contrary, it seemed only to renew her grief. Clarissa would have been glad to hear all about her darling's last days, and how the end came, but the mother could not bear any allusion to the subject, and Clarissa kept silence. She consoled herself by looking at Nora's peaceful face, that seemed to have a message of comfort for her. When she heard that Elsli had been alone with Nora when she died, she was very anxious to see the girl, and sent for her to come and speak with her. When Elsli came into the pleasant room where she had passed so many happy days, and glanced towards the empty window-seat, she was overcome with fresh grief. Clarissa took her by the hand, and, drawing her to a seat by her side, immediately began to ask about Nora; and soon Elsli was pouring out her whole heart; and she told Clarissa all that she and Nora had said to each other about the heavenly land, and she repeated the hymn that Nora had taught her. Then she told how quietly Nora had left her at last, and said that she hoped to follow her soon into her beautiful home.

Clarissa hung upon every word that fell from Elsli's lips with gratitude and satisfaction. It was she who had taught Nora that hymn as she sat upon her knees when she was a very little child, and as she heard it repeated now it was with the same tones, the same motions of hand and head that the child had used who learned it from her own lips; it seemed to Clarissa as if Nora lived again in Elsli. Weeping with mingled joy and sorrow, she went in search of Mrs. Stanhope.

"Surely," she exclaimed, "this child is the image of our darling; it is her sister, with her voice, her words, her very thought. This, too, is our child."

Mrs. Stanhope roused herself for a moment to listen to Clarissa's words, but she was not moved by them; she threw herself again on her bed and would not be comforted. Clarissa was not disheartened by this indifference; she was so completely impressed herself by the wonderful resemblance between the children that she led Elsli into the room where the hopeless mother lay in full indulgence of her grief, and said:—

"I bring you this little girl, Mrs. Stanhope; for I look upon her as a legacy that our Nora has left us."

Mrs. Stanhope looked for a moment into the girl's face; then she suddenly kissed her and said:—

"Elsli, Nora loved you, and you loved her. You shall stay with me always"; and they all three wept together, but there was healing in the tears.

Like one in a dream Elsli went home that day. She understood, but not wholly, what had happened. She had believed that Nora would ask her heavenly Father to call her to heaven, and would come herself to meet her; and now it seemed as if she had already come to meet her to lead her elsewhere than to heaven.

Clarissa went to make the arrangements with Marget, about which there was no difficulty whatever. For as soon as Marget understood that not only was Elsli to be provided with a home for life, but that the help which she might have afforded her parents as she grew older was to be made good to them, she was overjoyed. She said that Elsli was not fit for hard work, and that the care of the little boys was quite beyond her, especially since Hans was growing more and more troublesome. So she gladly agreed to let her go, with the understanding that she should return home at least once a year for a visit.

In an incredibly short time the whole village was in possession of the news that the wealthy Mrs. Stanhope had offered to take Elsli home with her, and to keep her as her own child always; and that they were to start for the villa on the Rhine the very next day. The excitement produced by this news was intense. Wherever two neighbors met on the road, they stopped to talk over the good-luck that had happened to Elsli. In the school, the children could not keep quiet, so great was their interest in the event. Even Mr. Bickel was moved to make an unheard-of effort. He took his big stick in his hand, saying:—

"Wife, we ought to go and call on Mrs. Stanhope, and apprise her of our relationship with that girl Elsli. If she needs any advice about the child, I am the proper person to give it. Perhaps we shall be asked to make our cousin a visit, when she is settled there by the Rhine; there are great factories of all kinds there, and perhaps Mrs. Stanhope may have some connection with them, and that may help us in our business."

But Mr. Bickel had to lay aside his stick again, for his wife was not ready to go to make so important a visit at so short notice.

If there was excitement elsewhere, at the doctor's house there was a real jubilee. The mother and the aunt were filled with thankfulness that the delicate girl had fallen into such good hands, where she would be loved and cared for, and where her natural refinement would have every chance of development. All the family were full of pleasure and anticipations of great things in the future.

Oscar went about all day, lost in thought. He was trying to turn this new state of things to account; for it was a great trial to him that the beautiful embroidered banner had had to be laid aside; and he was determined, if possible, to find some use to put it to. Emma, too, was evidently preoccupied, and Fred said to himself, as he saw her knitted brows, "She's got some scheme working in her brain." As for Fred himself, he sat deeply engaged in making long lists of all the caterpillars, beetles, snails, and other similar creatures that he knew were to be found in the neighborhood of the Rhine. To make assurance doubly sure, he put the Latin name under the common name of each.

That evening Elsli was sitting on the long bench at home, quite hidden by the three little brothers, who had taken complete possession of her. She bore the infliction patiently, for she knew it was the last time, at least for many months. She had begun to realize her good fortune, and to rejoice in the prospect before her. Clarissa had completely won her heart; and the child could talk to her freely and without reserve, as she had never spoken to any one before, except Nora. She did not feel so much at ease with Mrs. Stanhope, but she loved her as Nora's mother, and Mrs. Stanhope was kind to her, but not like Clarissa. Elsli puzzled her mind a good deal about the sort of life she was to lead in her new home; and as to whether she should be able to do all that was required of her, and to do it properly. But more than all, she was worried about Fani, from whom she was now so completely separated, and whom she might not see again for long years. As she sat pondering on these problems, she was totally unconscious that Hanseli was pulling and kicking her in the old style, when Emma suddenly came into the room.

"Elsli," she cried, breathlessly, before she had fairly passed the threshold, "you are going away to-morrow, and I have something very important to say to you. Put the boys down, and come with me; do."

"Hanseli will scream if I do," said Elsli, and he did scream; but Emma took him without ceremony from his sister's arms, setting him on the ground with no gentle hand; and before the frightened child had recovered from his surprise, she had dragged Elsli away round the corner of the house to a secluded place behind the big apple-tree.

"Here, I want you to take this with you," she began, holding out a thick roll of paper, "and I want to tell you that you are going to pass through Basel on your way."

"Are you sure?" asked Elsli, with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, yes, I am sure; and now listen. Tell Mrs. Clarissa that Fani is in Basel, and that you want to see him. I know she will take you, she is so kind. Then you give him this roll, and tell him that I sent it, and that I hope he is well. Here is his address."

"Oh, how glad I am!" cried Elsli. "Do you really think I ought to ask Mrs. Clarissa to take me to Fani?"

"Of course you ought; only think how pleased he will be to see you. Promise, Elsli,—" but before Elsli could answer, Oscar came round the corner; and, spying Elsli, he seized her by the hand, exclaiming:—

"I've been hunting for you everywhere; and I've found you at last! Come with me; I want to tell you something!"

He drew her away to the other side of the house, and stopped by the hazelnut hedge; Emma did not follow them, for fear of vexing her brother. She had sent to Fani, by Elsli, all the white paper and all the pencils that she could collect in the children's room at home, and she thought it but prudent to keep out of Oscar's way.

"Now, attend to what I am going to say, Elsli," began Oscar, seriously; "it is something very important for you to know. You are going to foreign parts, where you will have no friends; I mean no acquaintances among people in general. But no doubt there will be some Swiss there, and you can form a society of our countrymen, that can meet every week, and talk over all the news from their own country."

"Yes, but I shouldn't know what to say," said Elsli, very much perplexed.

"Never mind, the others can do the talking," said the boy, eagerly; "but now comes the really important part of it. Next summer, when you are coming home again, you must agree upon some convenient place where all the members of the society shall meet. Then crowds of people will collect from all sides, and I will be there with my beautiful banner, and we will have a procession and a great celebration of the first anniversary. Be sure to write me the date of the foundation, Elsli!"

"Yes, I will certainly," assented Elsli, but her tone was less decided than her words, for she was anything but clear as to how the society could be formed, or why it should be formed at all. Further questions were, however, impossible, for at this moment Fred appeared with Rikli in his wake, and a long strip of paper in his hand. Oscar vanished.

"Now, Elsli, read this," said Fred.

"Here are the names of all the beautiful caterpillars, and rare beetles and snails, that you are likely to find where you are going. I want you to hunt in all the hedges, and stir up the earth now and then in your walks. Then the fellows will turn up, and you can collect them, and send me the finest specimens. You will, won't you? I'll send you something pretty in return. You can put them right into your pocket, you know, until you get home from your walk, and hold the pocket together so,—; so that they won't crawl out"; and Fred pinched up his pocket-hole so that no kind of a crawling thing could have escaped from it. Rikli shuddered all over.

Elsli was very willing to do Fred this service, but she did not really see how, any more than in Oscar's case; but she said, modestly:—

"I will do my best, Fred; but how am I to know the creatures whose names are on your list?"

This was a sensible question, and Fred could not help seeing the importance of it; but he was not to be deterred by a slight obstacle. He looked again at his lists.

"Suppose I should draw a figure of each creature against its name!" he said to himself. "I will come to see you to-morrow morning, before you go away," he said to Elsli, and was off.

Little Rikli, whose lesson had been learned at such a severe cost, was quite cured of her foolish screaming whenever Fred came near her with his dear little insects; but she watched his every motion, lest his fist or his pockets should disgorge some green-eyed frog or other equally unpleasant treasure. Her big brother had, however, a great fascination for the child, who followed him everywhere like his shadow. She now came nearer to Elsli, and said, entreatingly:—

"Don't send the nasty things alive, will you, Elsli, dear? You'll stuff them first, won't you?"

Just then, who should make his appearance but Feklitus, in his very best Sunday suit, and at the same moment Marget's voice was heard from the cottage, calling in a tone loud enough to sound above Hans' screams:—

"Elsli, where are you? It's strange that you can't stay in the house two minutes at a time to-day."

Rikli ran away; but Feklitus seized Elsli by the arm and held her fast.

"I want to go to see the lady at Oak-ridge," he said, roughly. "I am your cousin, and I want to tell her so, and that some time or other we mean to come and visit you down there by the Rhine; but I'm not going alone, and you've just got to come with me."

"Let me alone; don't you hear that I am wanted in the house!" And Elsli tried to free herself from his hold.

"You shall come," said the boy; and he grasped Elsli still more firmly, and dragged her away with him.

Oscar, Emma, Fred, and Rikli all met with the same reception from Kathri on their return home; she stood on the front porch, and said to one after another as they came up, in a warning whisper:—

"Hush, hush! don't make a noise! Mrs. Stickhop is in the parlor, come to say good-bye."

Poor Elsli did not sleep much that last night at home. She was excited by all the last words and commissions and leave-takings of her friends, and oppressed by the thought of what was before her on the morrow, and it was in a half-dreamy state that early on the following morning she began her journey, with Mrs. Stanhope and Clarissa, in the large carriage, along the high road, through the country that lay still in the dawning light. Suddenly a folded paper, weighted with a small stone, flew through the air into the carriage window.

"Good-bye, Elsli. I wish I could go with you," cried a voice from the road-side. It was Fred, who had not been able to finish his work before, and who had only painted his last snail just in season to throw his now illustrated list after Elsli.

This last greeting brought the tears to Elsli's eyes. She seemed now fully to realize that she was leaving home, leaving all who had ever known and loved her. Clarissa saw it all, and, taking Elsli's hand in hers, she expressed, by the warm grasp that she gave her, a mother's sympathy and love.

For the next week the doctor's family were busy talking over and over all the events of the past few weeks, from the arrival of little Nora to Elsli's final departure. On the tenth day came a long letter from Elsli, which gave food for farther conversation. The mother and the aunt and the four brothers and sisters were all equally impatient to know the contents. The letter was addressed to Emma, who knew it from its envelope, opened it out, and exclaimed with delight:—

"It is eight pages long! I will read it aloud to you."