“Now we are going for Father!”

It was not long before the work was finished.  The mother put on her shawl, tied on her best apron and stepped out of the house.

Toni jumped for joy and ran three times around his mother, then seized her hand and shouted once more: 

“Now we are going for Father!”

Then he tripped along beside his mother in the lovely, sunny evening.  They wandered to the Wild brook, over the wooden bridge, which crosses it, and came to the narrow foot-path, winding up through the flower-laden meadows to the farm where the father worked.

The last rays of the setting sun fell across the meadows and the sound of the evening bells came up from Kandergrund.

The mother stood still and folded her hands.

“Lay your hands together Toneli,” she said, “it is the Angelus.”

The child obeyed.

“What must I pray, Mother?” he asked.

“Give us and all tired people a blessed Sunday!  Amen!” said the mother devoutly.

Toneli repeated the prayer.  Suddenly he screamed:  “Father is coming!”

Down from the farm some one was running as fast as he could come.

“That is not Father,” said his mother, and both went towards the running man.  When they met, the man stood still and said, gasping: 

“Don’t go any farther, turn around, Elsbeth.  I came straight to you, for something has happened.”

“Oh, my God!” cried the woman in the greatest anguish, “has something happened to Toni?”

“Yes, he was with the wood-cutters, and then he was struck.  They have brought him back; he is lying up at the farm-but don’t go up there,” he added, holding Elsbeth fast, for she wanted to start off as soon as she heard the news.

“Not go up?” she said quickly.  “I must go to him; I must help him and see about bringing him home.”

“You cannot help him, he is—­he is already dead,” said the messenger in an unsteady voice.  Then he turned and ran back again, glad to have the message off his mind.

Elsbeth threw herself down on a stone by the way, unable to stand or to walk.  She held her apron before her face and burst into weeping and sobbing, so that Toneli was distressed and frightened.  He pressed close to his mother and began to cry too.

It was already dark, when Elsbeth finally came to herself and could think of her child.  The little one was still sitting beside her on the ground, with both hands pressed to his eyes, and sobbing pitifully.  His mother lifted him up.

“Come, Toneli, we must go home; it is late,” she said, taking him by the hand.

But he resisted.

“No, no, we must wait for Father!” he said and pulled his mother back.

Again she could not keep back the tears.  “Oh, Toneli, Father will come no more,” she said, stifling her sobs; “he is already enjoying the blessed Sunday, we prayed for, for the weary.  See, the dear Lord has taken him to Heaven; it is so beautiful there, he will prefer to stay there.”