Oh, what was that? She had pricked her finger. There sat something pointed, sticking straight out of the soft mould.
It was—yes, guess—it was the toy soldier who had tumbled and turned about among the timber and the rubbish, and had lain for many years in the ground.
The young wife wiped the dirt off the soldier, first with a green leaf, and then with her fine handkerchief. It was just as if the toy soldier had awakened from a dream. Then the young man told his wife about the old house and the old man and the toy soldier that he had sent over because the old man had been so lonely.
"Very, very lonely!" said the toy soldier, "but it is delightful not to be forgotten!"
THE LITTLE BOY WHO WANTED A CASTLE
There was once a boy who thought a great deal about castles. He had a very beautiful picture book with coloured pictures of castles that showed how large and different and fine they were, and, presently, after thinking a long time about it, the boy decided that a castle was where he would like, most of all, to live.
So very early one morning, when it was a sunny day and pleasant enough for any sort of an adventure, the boy made up his mind that he would go out for a little journey and try to find himself a castle.
He told his mother about it, for he always told her everything, and she smiled down into his face as she buttoned his coat.
"Are you sure that you can find a castle?" she asked.