DEAR AUNTY,—­For pity’s sake, help me now!  Something dreadful has happened.  I will never make any plans again as long as I live, even if they would be sure to come out right.  I will always do just as mamma bids me, and never suggest anything more to Fani.  I gave him the book just to encourage him; but he said before he looked at it that what he cared for most was to be an artist.  And there was something that he could do that would make Mrs. Stanhope willing to have him one, only he couldn’t find any way to do it.  So I found a way.  I didn’t forget that I promised mamma that I wouldn’t make any plans; but I thought this was different.  Fani knew what he wanted to do; only he couldn’t see the way clear to do it, and I was just going to help him.  Don’t you see?  And there was a dreadful thing that happened when we tried that way; but I can’t write about it now, it is a long story.  I’ll tell you by and by.  But the trouble now is, we have lost a boat in the river; it is a poor fisherman’s, and we must pay him for it.  You will understand that we do not dare to tell Mrs. Stanhope anything about it.  We can’t ask her for so much money.  Fani says he would rather go to work in the factory.  But you will help us, I know, dear aunty; you will not let us suffer.  We want eighty marks.  It is terrible.  But it is worth that, for there were two oars and a pole besides the boat.  I don’t ask you to give it to me, but only to lend it.  I will keep thinking day and night how I can earn enough to pay you.  I have some things, you know; my godfather’s present.  In my drawer in the little writing-table at home are six silver spoons, and a beautiful pincushion, and two old Easter eggs with pictures on them cut out of paper:  dragons spitting fire, and flowers, and the sun, moon, and stars.  You can sell them for something, I am sure; and after this I will sell directly everything that I get and give you the money.  And perhaps I shall contrive to think of some way to earn something too; if I can I will.  Oh, dearest aunty, you will help us, I know, for you help everybody.

Write as soon as you can and tell us to come home.  How glad we shall be to get there!  There we can tell you all our troubles.  I wish we could go to-morrow, and get back to you and mamma.  Write directly, dear aunty.  I send you my love a thousand thousand times.

     Your loving niece,

     EMMA.

P.S.  Aunty, dear, I have thought of another way.  In Cologne I saw a girl who went about in the street with a basket and sold roses.  Now I think that if Mrs. Stanhope would let me take two roses from each bed in her garden I should get a basket full, and I could earn a lot of money, I am sure.  Don’t you think so?  With a thousand kisses, Your niece,

     EMMA.