“What! But child, what an idea,” exclaimed Martha, “what a foolish wish! You should realize what it means to want to find out something and not be able to. One has to begin over and over again, and nothing helps one. That is what happened to me to-day. If you don’t help me I won’t ever understand it. I often wish I could read and write as fast as our Cornelli does. It is a great gift to be able to read and write easily, and everybody who can’t do it knows that well. Don’t you like the pretty books your father has given you?” “No, I don’t. They are pretty, but awfully tiresome, Martha,” Cornelli assured her. “There are all kinds of stories and descriptions in them of famous people and discoveries. Father said that he used to love them when he was young, but he was probably different from me. Now I can’t run to the stable any more, nor into the woods as I feel like doing; now I have to sit around all the time and read a book. Oh, I wish nobody had written any books, then nobody would have to read them.” “But Cornelli, I do not think that this would suit everybody,” Martha said. “Please help me to read a letter I got to-day, and then you will see what an advantage it is to be able to read. I need your help, for I do not understand what is wanted of me.” Cornelli, taking up the letter, was quite willing to help her dear old friend. “Who wrote it?” asked the child. “That is just the thing I cannot read,” Martha answered. “I only know that it comes from town, but I cannot guess who could possibly write to me from there.” Cornelli began to read the letter aloud. It was an inquiry as to whether the spare room had yet been taken, and if Mrs. Wolf could take care of a boy of twelve years for a few weeks. He did not need special care, as he was not exactly ill; but the boy undoubtedly was not very strong. Good air and fresh milk were the chief things he needed. If no refusal came, the boy would arrive in the middle of July. It was signed: Nika Halm, rector’s widow. “Oh, how easily you read. It seems to go all of itself,” said Martha admiringly, when Cornelli had finished. “I never could have made it out so well. Just think how proud I can be that a rector’s wife will bring her son to me. Oh, I’ll take the best care of him, and I must ask Matthew to let him have some milk from the cows every morning and evening. Isn’t it too bad it is not a girl; then you would have a playmate. But you will entertain each other just the same. Are you not a little bit glad that he is coming?” “No, not a bit,” Cornelli returned curtly. “I know quite well that he won’t have anything to do with me, and I know why, too. I do not care whether it is a boy or a girl. I don’t want him.” “But Cornelli, you never used to be that way. You used to be so friendly and bright with everybody. What has happened to you?” asked Martha, quite grieved. “You do not look about you with bright eyes and your hair hangs too low on your face. Can’t I push it back a little?”