In the afternoon the father took the three little girls down to the lake. Beate's friends thought this was the loveliest place they had ever seen, and they begged the father to stop and get some of the pretty water-lilies for them. But Beate was longing for the floating island. The father rowed close up to the island and around it, and when he came to the other side the loon plunged out of the reeds into the water and was gone. "There is the loon's nest," said the father. What joy! The loon's nest was on the very edge of the little tiny island, hidden among the grasses, and in the nest were two big grayish-brown eggs, with black spots, larger than any goose eggs. Marie and Louise shouted and laughed, but Beate felt strangely frightened and was very quiet. She begged her father to let her stand on the island, only a minute, and would he let her take one of the eggs in her hand? The father told her she must be very careful just lift the egg gently between her two fingers, for if the bird noticed that the egg had been touched she would not hatch it. And now Beate stood on the green floating island. She was excited when she bent down to pick up the grayish-brown egg, but lifted it carefully between two fingers. Now she might wish for anything in the wide, wide world. And what do you think she wished for? To become a Princess of England? Oh, no, she knew something far better than that. Then her lips moved softly, and she whispered to herself: "I wish that Little Beate was with me once more, and would never, never leave me." Carefully she put the egg back into the nest. What was the pink something her eye now caught sight of among the tall reeds close to the nest? It was her doll! Beate gave one shriek of joy. "Little Beate, my own Little Beate," she sobbed, when she had her own dearest friend in her arms again. She covered her with tears and kisses, and held her tight in her arms as if she would never in the world let her go. Her father, Marie, and Louise stood by without saying a word. At last the father kissed his little girl, and lifted her on to the raft again. Such a birthday party as Beate had now! What did it matter that a year's rains and snows had faded Little Beate's cheeks and bleached her brown curls? She was the guest of honor, and sat on the prettiest chair. She had all the cookies and chocolate that she wanted. She was petted and loved; and at night, tired and happy, Big Beate slept with her little friend in her arms. HANS, THE OLD SOLDIER Viggo was Beate's brother. He was 10 years old. Hans was Viggo's dearest friend. The servants on the farm called the old Grenadier "Hans the Watchdog," for they said when he talked to anyone it sounded like a dog barking, and he looked as if he were ready to bite. But Viggo had once said that the Grenadier's voice sounded like the rattle of a drum, and the old soldier thought that was well said. It was from that time on that Viggo and Hans were such good friends.