resently,

"Will she have a horse too?"

"Why not, as well as you. It all depends on how steadily and how
faithfully you both work," replied Gertrude.

"Well, then, we shall have two horses," cried the boy, joyfully. "Where
shall we put the stable, mother?"

"We can see to that bye and bye, there is plenty of time for that. It
won't do for you to be thinking about the horse all the time, you know,
you must keep your mind on your work if you mean to do it well."

Dieterli said no more. He was busy trying to decide on which side of the
house it would be best to put the stable.

That night, Gertrude again hurried down the hill to the doctor's houses
and this time she brought him back with her.

Her husband's illness had taken a turn for the worse, and the next day he
died.

CHAPTER II.

WITH FRESH COURAGE.

A few days later a numerous company of mourners followed another black
bier to the sunny church-yard.

Steffan, the saddler, had been universally respected. He had begun life
modestly; there had been no large industries in Tannenegg in his early
days. He married the quiet and orderly Gertrude, who worked with him at
his trade, and helped support the frugal household. Soon the flood of
prosperity invaded Fohrensee, and naturally the only saddler in the
vicinity had his hands full of work.

Now Gertrude's help was needed in earnest, and she did not fail. They were
soon in possession of a nice little house of their own, with a garden
about it, and no matter how much work she might have to do in the shop,
everything in her own province of housekeeping was as well and carefully
ordered as if Gertrude had no other business to occupy her time and
thoughts. And Steffan, Gertrude and their little Dieterli lived simple,
useful and contented lives and were a good example to all the
neighborhood.

Now, to-day, Gertrude stood weeping by the window and looked across to the
church-yard, where that very morning they had laid her good man. Now she
must make her way alone; she had no one to help her, no one belonging to
her except her two children, and for them she must work, for she never
admitted for a moment that the orphaned Veronica was not hers to care for
as well as her own little Dietrich.

She did not lose courage. As soon as the first benumbing effect of her
sorrow had passed a little, she gazed up at the shining heavens and said
to herself, "He who has sent this trouble will send me strength to bear