"'Dead. No, it was none of our doing. You did it,—the roof fell on her. We will lay you together.'
"'Do so,' replied Vasco. 'I think I am dying now.'
"'Yes,' answered the father. Your face is becoming gray. Your throat will rattle in a minute. Look here; this is what my mother used to do.'
"'And he did thus," said the Vrouw Grobelaar, giving a very good imitation of the sign of the cross.
"But that was not a bad ending," cried Katje. "I think it was beautiful. I hope Vasco and the girl went straight to God."
The Vrouw Grobelaar sighed.
THE PERUVIAN
FROM her pocket Katje produced stealthily a clean-scoured wish-bone. The Vrouw Grobelaar was sleeping in her chair with tight-shut eyes. So I took one end of the bone, and we broke it, and the wish remained with Katje.
"Wish quick," I said.
She puckered her pretty brows with a charming childish thoughtfulness.