On Picket Duty, and Other Tales eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 95 pages of information about On Picket Duty, and Other Tales.

She could not speak, but her heart stood up in her eyes and answered him so eloquently that he was satisfied.

“Thank the Lord, it’s all right!” thought Dick, as, peeping in at the window ten minutes later, be saw Dolly enthroned upon Mr. Bopp’s knee, both her hands in his, and an expression in her April countenance which proved that she found it natural and pleasant to be sitting there, with her head on the kind heart that loved her; to hear herself called “meine _Error!  Hyperlink reference not valid.__;_” to know that she alone could comfort him for little Ulla’s loss, and fill her empty place.

“They make a very pretty landscape, but too much honey isn’t good for ’em, so I’ll go in, and we’ll eat, drink, and be merry, in honor of the night.”

He rattled the latch and tramped on the mat to warn them of his approach, and appeared just as Dolly was skimming into a chair, and Mr. Bopp picking up the spoons, which he dropped again to meet Dick, with a face “clear shining after rain;” and kissing him on both cheeks after the fashion of his country, he said, pointing to Dolly,—­

“See, it is all fine again.  I forgif you, and leave all blame to that bad spirit, Mephistopheles, who has much pranks like that, but never pays one for their pain, as you haf me.  Heart’s dearest, come and say a friendly word to Richart, then we will haf a little health,—­Long life and happiness to the King of Clubs and the Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes, August, and as he’s to be a farmer, we’ll add another,—­’Wiser wits and better manners to the Knave of Spades.’”

THE CROSS ON THE OLD CHURCH TOWER.

UP the dark stairs that led to his poor home strode a gloomy-faced young man with despair in his heart and these words on his lips:—­

“I will struggle and suffer no longer; my last hope has failed, and life, become a burden, I will rid myself of at once.”

As he muttered his stern purpose, he flung wide the door and was about to enter, but paused upon the threshold; for a glance told him that he had unconsciously passed his own apartment and come up higher, till he found himself in a room poorer but more cheerful than his own.

Sunshine streamed in through the one small window, where a caged bird was blithely singing, and a few flowers blossomed in the light.  But blither than the bird’s song, sweeter than the flowers, was the little voice and wan face of a child, who lay upon a bed placed where the warmest sunbeams fell.

The face turned smiling on the pillow, and the voice said pleasantly,—­

“Come in, sir, Bess will soon be back if you will wait.”

“I want nothing of Bess.  Who is she and who are you?” asked the intruder pausing as he was about to go.

“She is my sister, sir, and I’m ‘poor Jamie’ as they call me.  But indeed, I am not to be pitied, for I am a happy child, though it may not seem so.”

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On Picket Duty, and Other Tales from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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