there were nothing to go ahead for."

"Does your father know?"

"Yes, I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day.
I think he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It's
a comfort to him that my chickens are laying right on through the
cold weather and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep
his mind off such things, but I don't have much time to be with
him now."

"I wonder if he'd like to have me bring my magic lantern over some
evening?"

Alexandra turned her face toward him. "Oh, Carl! Have you got
it?"

"Yes. It's back there in the straw. Didn't you notice the box
I was carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar,
and it worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures."

"What are they about?"

"Oh, hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny
pictures about cannibals. I'm going to paint some slides for it
on glass, out of the Hans Andersen book."

Alexandra seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of
the child left in people who have had to grow up too soon. "Do
bring it over, Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I'm sure it