tears. They have to spend all day on their sick beds and have many troubles besides. Can you see now, Cornelli, how grateful I have to be to our Lord because nothing prevents me from sewing, even if I have to prick my fingers? But I believe I hear the bell in the foundry. You know that means supper time, so run back to the house as quickly as you can."

Martha knew well enough that she had to remind her little friend about returning, for often time had been forgotten and Cornelli had had to be sent for. But now the little girl began to run swiftly down the incline beside the rushing stream. Soon she came to the large buildings from which the sound of hissing fires, loud thumping and hammering could be heard all day. The noise was so great that only the roaring of the stream could drown it. Here were the works of the great iron foundry, well known far and wide, since most of those who lived in the neighborhood found employment there.

Glancing at the large doors and seeing that they were closed, Cornelli flew by them with great bounds. In an isolated house, well raised above the stream, lived the proprietor of the foundry. Beautiful flower gardens were on three sides.

Cornelli approached the open space in front and was soon inside. Flinging her hat into a corner, she entered the room where her father was already sitting at table. He did not even look up, for he was holding a large newspaper in front of him. As Cornelli's soup was waiting for her, she ate it quickly, and since her father made no movement behind his paper, she helped herself to everything else that was before her.

While she was nibbling on an apple, her father looked up and said: "I see that you have caught up with me, Cornelli. You even seem to be further along than I am. Just the same you must not come late to your meals. It is not right, even if you get through before me. Well, as long as you have finished, you can take this letter to the post office. There is something in it which concerns you and which will please you. I have to go now, but I shall tell you about it to-night."

Cornelli was given the letter. Taking the remainder of her apple with her, she ran outside. With leaps and bounds she followed the rushing Iller-Stream, till the narrow path reached the wide country road. Here stood the stately inn, which was the post office of the place. In the open doorway stood the smiling and rotund wife of the innkeeper.

"How far are you going at this lively pace?" she smilingly asked the child.

"I am only coming to you," Cornelli replied. She was very much out of breath, so she paused before adding: "I have to mail a letter."

"Is that so? Just give it to me and we'll attend to it," said the woman. Holding the hand the child had offered her, she added: "You are well off, Cornelli, are you not? You do not know what trouble is, do you, child?"

Cornelli shook her head.

"Yes, of course. And why should you? It does one good to see your bright eyes. Come to see me sometimes; I like to see a happy child like you."

Cornelli replied that she would gladly come again. She really meant to do so, for the woman always spoke kindly to her. After saying good-bye, she ran away again, jumping and bounding as before. The innkeeper's wife meantime muttered to herself, while she looked after Cornelli: "I really think there is nothing better than to be always merry."

The contents of the letter, which the little girl had taken to be mailed, were as follows:

ILLER-STREAM, 28th of April, 18--.

MY DEAR COUSIN:

My trip to Vienna, which I have put off again and again, at last has to be made. As I must leave in the near future, I am asking you the great favor of spending the summer here to superintend my household. I am counting greatly on your good influence on my child, who has had practically no education, although Miss Mina, my housekeeper, has of course done her best, with the help of our good Esther, who reigns in the kitchen. Old Martha, a former nurse of my poor dead wife, has done more than anybody else. Of course one can hardly call it education, and I have to blame myself for this neglect. As I am so busy with my affairs, I do not see much of my child. Besides, I know extremely little about bringing up little girls. There is no greater misfortune than the loss of a mother, especially such a mother as my Cornelia. It was terrible for my poor child to lose her at the tender age of three. Please bring a good friend with you, so that you won't suffer from solitude in this lonely place.

Please gladden me soon by your arrival, and oblige

Your sincere cousin,

FREDERICK HELLMUT.

That same evening, when Director Hellmut was sitting in the living room with his daughter, he spoke of his hope that a cousin of his, Miss Kitty Dorner, would come to stay in Iller-Stream while he was on his trip to Vienna. He also told Cornelli to be glad of this prospect.

After a few days came the following answer:

B----, The 4th of May, 18--.

MY DEAR COUSIN:

To oblige you I shall spend the summer at your house. I have already planned everything and I have asked my friend Miss Grideelen to accompany me. I am very grateful that you realize how monotonous it would have been for me to stay alone in your house all summer. You do not need to have such disturbing thoughts about your daughter's education. No time has yet been lost, for these small beings do not need the best of care at the start. They require that only when they are ripe enough for mental influences. Such small creatures merely vegetate, and I am quite sure Miss Mina was the right person to look after the child's well-being and proper nourishment. Esther, who you say is very reliable, too, has probably helped in taking care of the child as much as was necessary. The time may, however, have come now when the child is in need of a proper influence in her education.

We shall not arrive before the last week of this month, for it would be inconvenient for me to come sooner.

With best regards,

I am your cousin,

KITTY DORNER.

"Your cousin is really coming, Cornelli, and I am certain that you are happy now," said her father. He had read the letter while they were having supper. "Another lady is coming, too, and with their arrival a new delightful life will begin for you."

Cornelli, who had never before heard anything about this relation of her father's, felt no joy at this news. She did not see anything pleasing in the prospect. On the contrary, it only meant a change in the household, which she did not in the least desire. She wanted everything to remain as it was. She had no other wish.

Cornelli saw her father only at meals, for he spent all the rest of his time in his business offices and in the extensive works. But the child never felt lonely or forsaken. She always had many plans, and there was hardly a moment when she was not occupied. Her time between school hours always seemed much too short and the evenings only were half as long as she wanted them to be. It was then that she loved to walk and roam around. Her father had barely left the room, when she again ran outside and, as usual, down the path.

At that moment the energetic Esther was coming from the garden with a large basket on her arm. She had wisely picked some vegetables for the following day.

"Don't go out again, Cornelli," she said. "Just look at the gray clouds above the mountain! I am afraid we shall have a thunderstorm."

"Oh, I just have to go to Martha," replied Cornelli quickly. "I must tell her something, and I don't think a storm will come so soon."

"Of course it won't come for a long while," called Miss Mina. Through the open door she had overheard the warning and had stepped outside to say: "Just go to Martha, Cornelli; the storm won't come for a long time, I am sure."

So the child flew away while Esther passed Miss Mina, silently shrugging her shoulders. That was always the way it happened when Cornelli wanted anything. If Miss Mina thought that something should not be done, Esther always arrived, saying that nothing on earth would be easier than to do that very thing. Or, if she thought that Cornelli should not do a thing, Miss Mina always helped to have it put through. The reason for this was a very simple one: each of them wanted to be the favorite with the child.

Cornelli, arriving at Martha's house, shot up the stairs and into the little room. Full of excitement, she called out: "Just think, Martha, two strange people are coming to our house. They are two ladies from the city, and father said that I should be glad; but I am not a bit glad, for I do not know them. Would you be glad, Martha, if two new people suddenly came to visit you?"

The child had to take a deep breath. She had been running fast and had spoken terribly quickly.

"Just sit down here with me, Cornelli, and get your breath again," said Martha quietly. "I am sure that somebody is coming whom your father loves, otherwise he would not tell you to be glad. When you know them, I am sure you will feel happy."

"Yes, perhaps. But what are you writing, Martha? I have never before seen you write," said the child, full of interest, for her thoughts had been suddenly turned.

"Writing is not easy for me," answered Martha, "and you could do it so much better than I can. It is a long time since I have written anything."

"Just give it to me, Martha, and I'll write for you if you will only tell me what." Cornelli readily took hold of the pen and dipped it