heard nor seen before. Though she had
not seen the like, she knew by intuition that tenderness and patience
would subdue it; so she drew Kathie's head on her own shoulder, and
softly smoothed the child's brown hair; then she bathed the poor tired
eyes with her handkerchief, and forced a little wine upon the sorrowful
girl, and at last Kathie fell asleep.

Outside the wind was rising, the moonlight glittering; within, by the
few smouldering brands, sat the two children. Laura held Kathie until
her own head began to droop, and then, in each other's arms still
resting, they slept the sound sleep of childhood.

When the bright beams of morning penetrated the little hut, Kathie
awakened first, and rekindled the little fire.

Laura still slept; unaccustomed to so much fatigue, she needed the long
rest, and as Kathie looked at the pretty silver and blue of her dress,
and at the golden hair and healthful flush of her young companion's fair
face, she seemed to her an angel of mercy sent to comfort her in her
loneliness. For little Fritz was gone to the better land; hunger and
want had been more than his poor little crippled body could bear, and
Kathie's kindness could not keep life any longer in so feeble a frame.
The woodsman had made a little grave in the forest for him, and there
poor Kathie had gone every day, and was but returning from it the
evening previous when she found Laura waiting for her.

[Illustration: "WITH LAURA'S HAND CLASPED OVER HERS, SHE FELT NO LONGER
ALONE."]

As soon as Laura had wakened, and the two children had eaten, Kathie led
Laura to the place where her brother had been laid. Birds were singing
gayly in the trees over his head, and Kathie had made wreaths of
wild-flowers and garlands of grasses and placed them over the spot so
dear to her. Together they stood silently listening to the birds' clear
notes, and the morning was so bright and beautiful that Kathie could not
grieve as she had done the night before. With Laura's hand clasped over
hers, she felt that she was no longer alone; and when Laura said, "Now
we will both go back to the dear Motherkin," she did not refuse, but
turned away to make her little preparations. This was soon done, and
guided by Laura's staff, they started out for their long tramp through
the woods.

"Now, Kathie," said Laura, after they had walked far enough to need a
little rest, "let us sit on this nice mossy rock, and you tell me,
please, how you came to be livi