Carl commenced laughing, and assumed a crane-like position, as he
balanced himself upon one leg. This was his usual custom when pleased.

"Well, well, then you love poor Carl a little. That's good!"

"Carl is my good boy," replied Magde, who during the conversation had
been engaged in spreading out a number of skeins of knitting yarn that
had been placed out to bleach upon the grass plot.

"Listen," said Carl, approaching nigher to Magde, "would Magde shed a
tear upon my grave if God should call me from earth?"

There reposed in these words a tone of mingled fear and humility, and
Magde, much moved by the peculiar expression of Carl's countenance,
replied:

"Certainly, Carl, I would shed many, many tears, for I believe there are
none who love you as I do."

"I am grateful, Magde," said Carl, violently scraping the ground with
the sole of his hob-nailed shoe, an action which could scarcely be
called a bow--"your words shall be remembered. I am Magde's servant, and
shall be so as long as I live."

With these words, he turned on his heel, and trotted towards his place
of destination.

"The poor lad has a good heart," thought Magde, as she concluded her
labors in the yard; but she little imagined the true state of Carl's