"Yes--but Angelika?" Ernestine asked hesitatingly.
"She shall have another to-morrow. Take it, and read the story of the Ugly Duckling; that will comfort you when people are cross to you. Take it--why do you hesitate?"
The child took the book as carefully and timidly as if it were in reality a fairy book and would vanish at her touch. When she had it in her hands and it did not disappear, and she could really believe in her happiness in receiving such a present, she uttered a scarcely audible "Thank you very much!" but the look that accompanied the words touched Johannes.
"You do not often have presents?" he asked.
"Never!"
"Oh! you seem not to be very affectionately treated. Does not your mother ever give you anything?"
"I have no mother. She died because I was not a boy."
"A most remarkable cause of death," observed Johannes, half dryly, half compassionately.
"Ah, if I had a mother, everything would be different." And the large tears rolled down over her cheeks.
"Listen, little one," said Johannes kindly, after a pause. "I have a dear mother, and I will share her with you--half a mother's heart is better than none at all. Come home with me. You shall be my little sister, and you will be gentle enough when you know us better."