pi gave him his new knife and a humming-top painted red and
yellow--atonements for swindles practised upon him formerly, as I
learned later, and probably no longer remembered by Nikolaus now. These
things touched him, and he could not have believed that we loved him so;
and his pride in it and gratefulness for it cut us to the heart, we were
so undeserving of them. When we parted at last, he was radiant, and said
he had never had such a happy day.

As we walked along homeward, Seppi said, "We always prized him, but
never so much as now, when we are going to lose him."

Next day and every day we spent all of our spare time with Nikolaus;
and also added to it time which we (and he) stole from work and other
duties, and this cost the three of us some sharp scoldings, and some
threats of punishment. Every morning two of us woke with a start and
a shudder, saying, as the days flew along, "Only ten days left;" "only
nine days left;" "only eight;" "only seven." Always it was narrowing.
Always Nikolaus was gay and happy, and always puzzled because we were
not. He wore his invention to the bone trying to invent ways to cheer us
up, but it was only a hollow success; he could see that our jollity had
no heart in it, and that the laughs we broke into came up against some
obstruction or other and suffered damage and decayed into a sigh. He
tried to find out what the matter was, so that he could help us out of
our trouble or make it lighter by sharing it with us; so we had to tell
many lies to deceive him and appease him.

But the most distressing thing of all was that he was always making
plans, and often they went beyond the 13th! Whenever that happened it
made us groan in spirit. All his mind was fixed upon finding some way
to conquer our depression and cheer us up; and at last, when he had but
three days to live, he fell upon the right idea and was jubilant over
it--a boys-and-girls' frolic and dance in the woods, up there where we
first met Satan, and this was to occur on the 14th. It was ghastly, for
that was his funeral day. We couldn't venture to protest; it would only
have brought a "Why?" which we could not answer. He wanted us to help
him invite his guests, and we did it--one can refuse nothing to a dying
friend. But it was dreadful, for really we were inviting them to his
funeral.

It was an awful eleven days; and yet, with a lifetime stretching back
between to-day and then, they are still a grateful memory to me, and