ed a framed picture of
the Madonna, sat a little child; she looked up frequently at Manna, who
nodded to her, indicating that she must study her book more diligently,
and be as busy as the rest. The child was nicknamed Heimchen, because
she had suffered so much from homesickness, and Heimchen had become the
pet of all the girls. Manna had cured the child, to all appearance at
least, for on the day after the representation of the sacred play, she
had received permission from a lay-sister who presided over the
gardening, to prepare for the child a separate little garden-plat; and
now she seemed to be taking root in the foreign land, as did the plants
which she had since watered and cared for, but she was inseparable from
Manna.

Manna worked diligently; some pale blue paper was lying before her, and
she was painting on it, with a fine brush, pictures of the stars in
color of gold from small shells.

She prided herself especially on having the neatest writing-books,
every leaf ruled very regularly with lines close together, and
uniformly written upon, neither too coarse nor too fine. Manna had
received, a few days since, the highest mark of honor ever conferred on
a pupil, by being unanimously made the recipient of the blue ribbon,
which the three classes of the children, namely, the children of Jesus,
the angels of Mary, and the children of Mary, had adjudged to her.
There had hardly been any election, so much a matter of course did it
seem that nobody but Manna could be designated for the blue ribbon.
This badge of distinction gave her a sort of right to be considered a
superior.

While she was thus drawing, and frequently running her eye over the
children left under her care, she had a book open by her side; it was
Thomas a Kempis. While putting in the stars, which she did with that
delicate and beautiful finish attainable, perhaps, only in the convent,
she snatched a few sentences out of Thomas a Kempis, that her soul
might be occupied with higher thoughts during this trifling occupation.

The stroke of oars sounded from the shore on that side: the girls
looked up; a handsome young man was standing in the boat, who lifted
his hat and waved it, as if saluting the island.

"Is he your brother? your cousin?" was whispered here and there.

No one knew the stranger.

The boat came to land. The girls were full of curiosity, but they dared
not intermit their work, for everything had its allotted time. Luckily,
a tall