the knee again. As to
Franz here, he, as you see, has his arm in a sling yet. He caught me up
in the wood, me and Hofer. Ah! that dear Hofer, he was in hospital, just
getting over a sabre cut in the cheek when I was taken there, and he has
been my good nurse ever since."

I am standing still, with downcast eyes, and there stands Franz staring
at me, with his one arm ready to take me to his heart.

"And where is Fifine?" say I, bursting into tears.

"Fifine--ah! I was near forgetting her," and he plunges his one hand
into the deep pocket of his military coat and pulls out a creature which
climbs to his shoulder, and there sits purring--a white fluffy cat with
pink eyes.

"Why, you little fool," cries old Herr postmaster as he comes behind me
and lifts me within reach of Franz, "didn't I say it was a cat of a
French woman?"

There is a light quick stride at the door--a loud joedel--a bright
laugh--and Hofer stoops his tall body and looks round. A cloud comes
over his face almost before he has greeted the dear mistress, and kissed
me on the cheek. "Where is Bertha?" he asks, and before we can answer
him he has darted out again, and we have scarcely lost the sound of his
rapid step before he is back among us, bearing the poor child in his
arms. We chafe her hands and feet, and warm and comfort her. Dear
Bertha, she had been so faithful watching there by the wall, and Hofer
had stopped behind to help up a fallen horse, and when he came not she
fainted and fell with cold and fear. But now we are all together in the
great kitchen, and supper is getting ready, and wine is on the table,
and the dear master and mistress are with their little ones at the
Christmas-tree, that makes a path of glory on the outer snow.

"Bertha, thou surely hast the second sight," says the old postmaster as
he looks at her. The colour comes again rose-red into her cheek as Hofer
draws her closer to his side.

"Yes," says she, "it is love that gives it. One has second sight when
one thinks no longer of one's self but of another."

------------------------------

It was Saturday afternoon, and our week's work was nearly over. On
Monday the great fancy fair was to be held, and the side-table in Miss
Grantley's pleasant parlour was covered with samples of all kinds of
needle-work, in lace, wool, crewel, applique, and on linen, satin,
velvet, silk, and cloth. There were handscreens, water-colour sketches,
embroidery, bead-wor