"Oh, I found out," said Billy. The truth was, that Billy had walked all the way down to the tents, a few days before, and asked Ralph and Flora if they knew of any thing Rob wanted; and Flora told him how Rob had lost his knife that very day,--had dropped it in the creek, while he was cutting willows to make whistles of. After Billy had given Rob the knife, he pulled out of his pocket a little parcel done up in white paper, and handed it to Nelly, saying:-- "I dunno 's it'll be of any kind o' use to yer; but I thought 'twas kind o' putty." Nelly opened the paper. It held a queer little scarlet velvet pincushion, in a white ivory frame, which was made so that it could screw on a table. "Oh, how pretty!" said Nelly. "Thank you, Billy. I'll keep it on my table all winter." Mr. Kleesman stood behind the others. He smiled and bowed, and said to Mr. March:-- "You haf goot day. The sun shine on your journey." "Yes," said Mr. March. "I'm afraid it will not shine so bright when we come back without these little people." "No, dat it vill not," said Mr. Kleesman. "Dat it vill not." "Well," said the driver, gathering up the reins in his left hand, and lifting his whip, "I guess we'll have to be movin' along, if you're ready, sir." "All ready," said Mr. March. The driver cracked his whip, and the horses started off on a run, up the hill. "Good-by! good-by!" shouted Rob and Nelly, leaning out. "Goot-by!" cried Ulrica, and flung her bouquets into the stage, into Mrs. March's lap, and Nelly's. "Good-by! good-by!" cried Billy and Lucinda. "Goot-by!" cried Mr. Kleesman; "and goot luck go with you." "That's jest what will go with that Nelly wherever she goes," said Billy, turning to Mr. Kleesman. "You haf known the child?" asked Mr. Kleesman. "Well, yes," said Billy, leisurely, "I may say I know her. I brought 'em here, three years ago last spring; an' me 'n' my wife we lived with 'em goin' on a year. Yes, I know 'em. There ain't any nicer folks in this world; but Nelly she's the pick o' the hull on 'em. She ain't no common child; she ain't, now. She hain't minded no more about that mine o' hern,--that mine she found,--I suppose you've heered all about it--" "Yes, I know," said Mr. Kleesman.