"I was broken-hearted. To lose Lili, and to have her lose all her property, were two things which made my life unhappy for a long, long time. The very next day she came to say good-bye. We cried bitterly, for we could not bear to think of living apart, we were so necessary to each other's happiness. We promised to be always true to each other, and to use every effort to meet again; and then we sat down together and composed a last poem, for we had often written verses together. We cut the poem in halves, and took each a half to keep as a token of our lasting union, and as a sign of recognition when we should some day meet again. "Lili went away. We wrote to each other for several years, and our friendship continued as fervent as ever. These letters were the only drops of comfort in the monotonous loneliness of my life after I lost Lili. When I was about seventeen, I received a letter which told me that her father had decided to go to America. She promised to write again as soon as they were settled in their new life. I never heard from her again. Whether her letters were lost, or whether the family never staid long enough in one place for her to be able to give me an address, or whether Lili thought that our lives were now so irrevocably separated that we could never hope to resume our intimacy--these are questions that I have often asked myself, but that of course I have had no means of deciding. Perhaps Lili is no longer living; she may have died soon after that very time--I cannot tell. I have mourned her as an irreparable loss, for she was my first, my only intimate girl-friend, and nothing can efface from my mind the memory of her friendship, and of the vast goodness and affection which her family showered upon me. I have inquired for them in every direction, but have never discovered any clue to their existence far or near." The mother was silent; a very sad expression rested upon her face. The children sympathized with her and said one after the other, sorrowfully, "What a pity, what a pity!" Little Hunne, however, who had listened very attentively to his mother's story, put his arms lovingly around her, and said, "Don't be so sad, mamma dear! I will go to America as soon as I am big enough, and bring your Lili back with me; that I will!" Rolf and Wili had drawn near, to hear the story, and presently Rolf said, looking thoughtfully at a strip of paper which he held in his hand, "Did your piece of paper with the poem look like a rebus, after you had cut it in two, Mamma?" "Perhaps so, Rolf. I should think it might look like one. Why do you ask?" "Look here! is this it?" replied the boy, holding up his strip of paper.