Early the following morning a neighbor passed the window on her way to the well, and, glancing in as usual, she saw Wiseli crying beside the mother, who had her head pillowed on the window seat. She ran to the child, saying, "What is it, Wiseli? I hope your mother is not worse." Wiseli only sobbed. The neighbor bent over the mother in surprise and alarm. "Go to your uncle quickly, Wiseli," she said; "tell him to come immediately. I will wait here until you get back." The uncle's house was about fifteen minutes' walk from the church, and Wiseli ran on obediently, although the tears would not be kept back. Her aunt answered the knock at the door; seeing the child in tears she said gruffly, "What is the matter with you?" "I have been sent over to get my uncle; my mother is dead," answered Wiseli, for she had reasoned it out to herself that it must be so or else the mother would speak to her. The aunt softened perceptibly. "He is not here just now," she said almost kindly. "I will have him come as soon as possible, so you needn't wait." It was not long after Wiseli's return that the uncle came. He directed the neighbor to look after everything so that he might take the child away at once. "But where shall we go?" inquired Wiseli. "You shall go home with me, for I am all that you have left now. I will take care of you." In spite of this assurance a great dread seized Wiseli. To go home with her uncle meant to live with the aunt of whom she was so afraid that she had always dreaded even meeting her. Then there were the three rude cousins, of whom Chappi was the oldest. The thought of how Hans and Rudi were always throwing stones at children made her shudder. How could she go there to live, and yet how dared she refuse? All these thoughts flashed through Wiseli's mind as she stood hesitating. "You needn't be afraid," said her uncle kindly; "there are a good many of us, to be sure, but you will find that all the more interesting." Wiseli tied a few of her things in a bundle, put a shawl over her head, and joined her uncle who was waiting near the door. "That is a good girl," said the uncle; "now let us be off. Don't cry any more; that never helps anything." Wiseli choked back the sobs as best she could and followed the uncle, whose stern nature had never been so touched before. Thus the little home where Wiseli had lived, loving and beloved, passed out of her life forever. They had a glimpse of Trina, who was crossing a vacant lot with a basket on her arm, and Wiseli knew that she was going to see her mother. Trina said to the neighbor who met her at the door; "I have something good for the sick one's dinner; I hope I am not too late. We have a visitor, and everything is late when he is there." "It doesn't matter now, for you would have been too late even if you had come early this morning; she died in the night," said the neighbor.