"It is not much to tell: we have not been long alone. I do not remember my mother; my father was a wood-cutter, and we were very happy till the war came, and he had to be a soldier, and leave little Fritz and me all alone."
"Your father a soldier! so is mine. How nice!" said Laura.
"Ah, but your father is an officer, of course, and can do almost as he pleases, while my poor father had hardly time to bid us good-bye when he went away; and I do not know whether he is alive or has been killed in some dreadful battle."
"Then we'll think he is alive and well, and soon coming home," said Laura, springing up and dragging Kathie with her for a race. "Come, we will not talk any more, for your eyes are full of tears, and this is too lovely a day for us to be unhappy, my poor, poor Kathie. Come! I am sorry I asked you anything."
The day was indeed lovely, and the soft, sweet air was full of delicious odors from the many buds and blossoms.
Soon the children forgot their sad talk, and were chasing butterflies, when again Laura, in her glee, threw down her staff, and could not recollect the spot where it had fallen.
"Oh, Kathie, my staff! my staff is lost again! where did I put it?" she exclaimed, when a little mocking voice was heard repeating her words, and skipping over the rocks was seen the well-remembered rabbit-skin of the Herb Elf.
Laura was very much provoked at her own carelessness, and annoyed at again seeing her teasing acquaintance of the woods reappear; but she had gained a little wisdom from her former encounter, and took care not to show her vexation.
But Kathie was very much alarmed, and clung close to Laura. The Herb Elf, seeing this, brandished his bludgeon, and executed a fantastic series of capers.
"Afraid, are you?—ho! ho! he! he! A great big girl afraid of me!" he sung.