no doubt take everything in hand and see what could be done with the boy.  He was sure that the pastor in Lower Wood would find some relations of the boy, and he perhaps knew already more about the strangers, than was suspected.  The woman, no doubt, had confided in his colleague about herself, since she would have had to do that as she had sent her boy to Lower Wood to school, and perhaps also to Sunday school.  One could not possibly give in to Sally in all her manifold emotions and pay attention to them.  The child had too vivid an imagination and was yet too young to have the gift of discrimination, and if one should give in to her fancies one soon would fill the house with Leopoldys and other creatures, who soon would be turned out of the house or, at least, be pushed aside by the same Sally, as soon as she saw that the good people were not as she had imagined them.

“I have to take Sally’s part somewhat, dear husband,” said the mother.  “You are right, she feels very strongly, and she shows these feelings to everyone whom she meets; but I do not find that wrong, for, wherever she meets with a response, there she remains faithful to her feelings, and she loves her friends warmly and constantly.  With what devotion has she adhered to Kaetheli from babyhood!  And I much prefer that she go through life with her warm heart, and expect to find a friend in every human being, than that she should pass people indifferently, and have no conception of friendship, although she may meet with many a disappointment and many a condemnation through this trait.”

“Both will be her share, in plenty,” said the father.  “In this direction we therefore will do our share in saving her from these things as much as she can be saved.”

So the mother saw that the best that could be done was to pacify Sally and to explain to her that nothing could be done at present but something would be done later from another source.

When it became known that the strange woman had died, there was a great deal of talk, especially among the Middle Lotters, in whose midst the woman had lived, but had never been seen—­a fact which had always caused suspicion.  Since no one knew anything about her past life, then everyone had the more to say about who she might have been.  At any rate, nothing very good, in that they all agreed, else she would have been friendly with them and would not have kept herself so apart.  When now no relations appeared and she had to be buried without any mourners, then a number of stories began to circulate which became more and more mysterious.  For the official of the community had said that, no doubt, she had been an exile, and the Justice of Peace had added that then she must have committed very great political crimes.  ’Lizebeth was not loath to bring these stories to the pastor and his wife, for she had never been able to overcome the thought of the velvet pants.  The pastor’s wife shook her head incredulously and forbade ’Lizebeth to carry the stories further.  The pastor said:  “There must have been something crooked, but the woman is now buried, and we will say nothing more about it.”