The boy became at once very confidential, and entered on the family history. His mother was ill, and his grandfather could not go out into the sun unless she helped him. The little girl’s name was Lenchen, and his own was Lucas, and the other boys were Tolf and Heini, and were not much bigger than he. As he talked, they passed the willow-bushes, and came to the taller trees that stood near together; and quite close to the water, wedged tightly in between two of these trees, stood a small hut, so low and gray with moss, that it could scarcely be distinguished from the trees. “Here,” said the boy, and drew Elsli with him into the house. It was pleasant and clean within, though low and small. The sun was streaming in through the little window in the corner. Against the wall was a bedstead, where the sick mother lay, staring with big, wide-open eyes at the new-comer. In the sunny corner sat an old man with snow-white hair. He looked up wonderingly at Elsli and the children. Two boys, not much larger than Lucas, came towards them as they entered. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, and we couldn’t find you anywhere!” they cried. Elsli went to the bedside and told the mother about the children’s misfortune, and where she had found them. The poor woman thanked her, and said it was very difficult for her to look after the little ones, now that she was confined to her bed. The two older boys had all they could do to keep the house in order, so she let the younger children go out by themselves; and sometimes they got into trouble, for they were foolish little things. As she spoke, the mother looked with anxious eyes at Lenchen, as she stood in her mud-stiffened clothes. “Can I help you in any way?” asked Elsli. She spoke timidly, for the woman’s tone and manner compelled respect. “We have never been obliged to beg,” was the reply. “We help ourselves as well as we can. But since I have been ill, it has been very hard. What help could a young lady like you give us?” “I am not a young lady. I can take off Lenchen’s frock and wash it, and hang it out to dry,” replied Elsli, eagerly. “Your dress shows that you are a young lady,” answered the sick woman, evidently much surprised; and she glanced searchingly at Elsli from head to foot. The dress, which was one of Nora’s, was of soft woollen material, trimmed with silk bands. “It is not mine; it was only given me to wear,” she said.