BESIDE THE ILLER-STREAM
have taken letters there, I have heard people say to the innkeeper: ‘This must be put in the paper.’ Then he took it and said: ‘I’ll look after it.’ Now I shall do the same. Just give it to me, Martha.”
Once more the woman glanced through what had been written. It seemed very strange to her that her name was going to appear in the newspaper, but, of course, it was necessary.
“No, no, my good child,” she replied, “you have done enough for me now. You have helped me wonderfully, and I do not want you to go there for me. But your advice is good and I shall take the paper there myself.”
“Oh yes, and I’ll come, too,” said Cornelli delightedly. She knew no greater pleasure than to take a walk with her old friend, for Martha always discovered such interesting things and could point them out to Cornelli, telling her many, many things about them. In many places Martha would be reminded of Cornelli’s mother; then with great tenderness she would tell the child about her. Martha was the only one who ever talked to Cornelli about her mother. Her father never spoke of her;
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