y several times
in succession fervently prayed: "Oh, dear God, please bring it about
that Erick may come to his grandfather on the beautiful estate."

Now the mother entered Sally's room. "My dear child," she said, "for
what did you pray just now to the dear God? Will you explain it to me?"

But Sally made such an uproar that the mother stopped with surprise.
"You did not hear it, Mother? I hope you have not understood it, Mother.
Have you? You must not know it, Mother, no one must know it. It is a
great secret."

"But, dear child, do be quiet and listen to me," said the mother kindly.
"I heard that you prayed to the dear God for something for Erick.
Perhaps we, too, could do something for him. Tell me what you know, for
it may lead to something good for him."

"No, no," cried Sally in the greatest excitement, "I will say nothing, I
have promised him, and I do not know anything else than for what I have
prayed." And Sally threw herself on her pillow and began to sob.

Now the mother ordered her to be quiet and let the thing rest. She would
not ask her any more, nor speak of it. Sally should do as she felt, and
surrender everything to the dear God. But the mother put two things
together in her mind. When Marianne had come to take leave, she had
questioned her about Erick's mother and the latter's condition; also
whether Marianne knew her maiden name. But Marianne did not know much,
only once she had seen a strange name, but had not been able to read it.
It was when Erick, at one time, had taken the cover from his mother's
little Bible; then she saw a name written with golden letters. Erick
must have the little Bible. The lady had seen the little black book in
Erick's box and had taken off the close-fitting cover and had found
written in fine gold letters the name, "Hilda von Vestentrop". She at
once assumed that this must be the maiden name of Erick's mother; but
she knew nothing further.

Now she had learned through Sally's prayer that Denmark had been her
native land, and that a father was living there. All this she told to
her husband the same evening, and proposed that he should write at once
to this gentleman in Denmark.

The pastor leaned far back in his armchair and stared at his wife with
astonishment. "Dear wife," he said at last, "do you really believe that
I could send a letter addressed 'von Vestentrop, Denmark'? This address
is no doubt enough for the dear God, but not for short-sighted human
beings.