that was splendid."

"And just then you all came in."

"Ha ha! Ha ha ha!"

By this time it was so late that we must start for home and we took the
quickest way, over High Street. It was almost dark and there was
scarcely a person in sight, as we ran up the street through the March
slush and mud.

"Oh, let's knock on Mother Brita's windows!" said I, and we knocked
gaily on the little panes as we ran past the house.

At that moment Mother Brita called from her doorway.

"Halloa!" she called. "Come here a minute. God be praised that any one
should come! Let me speak to you."

We went slowly back. Perhaps she was angry with us for knocking on her
windows.

"Here I am as if I were in prison," said Mother Brita. "My little
grandchild is sick with bronchitis and I can't leave him a single
minute; and my son John, you know him, is out there at Stony Point with
his ship, and is going to sail away this very evening, and he sails to
China to be gone two years,--and I want so much to say good-bye to
him--two whole years--to China--but I can't leave that poor sick baby in
there, for he chokes if some one doesn't lift him up when the coughing
spells come on--oh, there he's coughing again!"

Mother Brita hurried in, and all four of us after her. A tiny baby lay
there in a cradle, and Mother Brita lifted him and held him up while the
coughing spell lasted. He coughed so hard that he got quite blue in the
face.

"O dear! You see how it is! Now he'll go away--my son John--this very
evening, and I may never see him again in this world, uh-huh-huh!"

Poor Mother Brita! It seemed a sin and a shame that she should not at
least see her son to bid him good-bye.

"I'll sit here with the baby until you come back, Mother Brita," said I.

"Yes, I will too."

"So will I, and I." All four of us wanted to stay.

"Oh, oh! What kind little girls!" said Mother Brita. "I will fly like
the wind. Just raise him up when the spells come on. I won't be long on
the way either going or coming. Well, good-bye, and I'm much obliged to
you." With that Mother Brita was out of the house, having barely taken
time to throw a handkerchief over her head.

There we sat. It was a strange ending to an afternoon of fun and
mischief. The room was very stuffy; a small candle stood on the table
and burned with a long, smoky flame, and back in a corner an old clock
ticked very slowly, tick--tock!--tick--tock!

We talked only in whispers. Very soon the bab