At noon the following day the colonel came home with the information that he was too late to get Wiseli. "You know, children," he said, "her uncle Gotti really wants to help the girl. He is a highly respected man and he offered to take the child for very little money. Wiseli's mother left her scarcely anything, so somebody had to offer her a home, and it seemed natural that her uncle should do so. Everybody feels satisfied that she has been well placed. I believe it is the best arrangement that could be made, for she is much too young to go out to work. We cannot take all the homeless children unless we put up an orphanage." "I had only hoped," said Mrs. Ritter, "that we might help to find a place more suited to the child. She has a sensitive nature as well as a frail body, and she ought to be somewhere else. She will hear a great deal that is coarse and rude where she is, and will have to work much too hard for her delicate constitution. We shall have to accept the situation, but I am sorry that we cannot help her in some way." Miezi cried, and Otto struck the table with his clenched fist to emphasize how he would deal with Chappi if he were unkind to Wiseli. It was only a few days, however, before the children grew accustomed to thinking of the little girl in her new surroundings, and the weeks sped on as rapidly as ever. In the meantime Wiseli was becoming reconciled to her new home. Her bed had been brought over as her uncle had planned, and it was put in a box-like apartment partitioned off from the aunt's sleeping room. This was barely large enough for the bed and the small trunk which had been brought over with the remainder of the little girl's things. Wiseli had to stand either on the bed or on the trunk when she dressed, and she had to climb over the trunk to get into bed. She had to go to the well out of doors to wash her hands and face. When it was so cold that the water would freeze, the aunt told her to let it go altogether. "I am sure," she said, "that you can wash yourself enough when it gets warmer." Since this advice was not in accordance with her mother's teaching, Wiseli did not accept it. The life in Wiseli's present surroundings was so different in every way from that to which she had been accustomed, that the comparison often produced severe homesickness, although she was never again so unhappy as on the first evening at her uncle's house. She remembered her beautiful dream and she did not doubt that a better place would be found for her, since she had prayed for it. "My mother will not let God forget me," was the assurance that held up hope before her during those trying days, and the thought of the verses was constantly with her. "For thee He'll surely save A place to work His will."