rattle off in grand
school-recitation style, though these etymological gymnastics never
bore on his practices as a writer.

Of such rules Alma knew nothing. She had learned Swedish spelling on
quite another principle. For years she had copied a Swedish poem every
day for her father (whether with him or away from him), in pretty
little books, which were in due time presented to him with the
inscription at the beginning, "From his devoted daughter."

Alma now gave Nono the "psalm book," and bade him copy the hymn
carefully. He did not dare to touch the dainty little volume, for his
hands were far from immaculate after his morning's work. He managed,
though, with his knuckles to steady it against Baxter's "Saints' Rest"
and "Thomas a Kempis," which in choice bindings found their place among
Alma's devotional books, more in memory of her mother, to whom they had
belonged, than for any special use they were to the present owner.

Nono's copy proved fair and correct, for he had the idea that whatever
he did must be done well. He signed his name, and put the date below,
as he was requested, adding a superfluous supplementary flourish, like
an expression of rejoicing that the trial was over.

On one side of the table was a little porcelain statuette that fixed
his attention. On an oval slab lay a fine Newfoundland dog, while a
boy, evidently just rescued from drowning, was stretched beside him,
the dank hair and clinging clothes of the child telling the story as
well as his closed eyes and limp, helpless hands.

"Is he really drowned? is he dead?" asked Nono, forgetting all about
the spelling, as did his teacher when she heard his question.

"That is one of my treasures, Nono," she said. "The princess gave it
to my mother. She modelled it with her own hands--the group after
which this was made, I mean. You have heard about the good princess,
Nono?"

Nono shook his head and looked very guilty. He knew the king's name,
and believed him to be quite equal to David; but as to the queen and
all the "royal family," he was in most republican ignorance.

Now Alma had something she liked to talk about. Perhaps she was
willing that even Nono should know that her own dear mother had been
intimately acquainted with a princess, and had loved her devotedly, and
been as warmly loved in return. Alma even condescended to tell Nono
that it was the princess who had first led her dear mother to a true
Christian life; which high