open doorway stood the smiling and rotund wife of the innkeeper.

"How far are you going at this lively pace?" she smilingly asked the
child.

"I am only coming to you," Cornelli replied. She was very much out of
breath, so she paused before adding: "I have to mail a letter."

"Is that so? Just give it to me and we'll attend to it," said the
woman. Holding the hand the child had offered her, she added: "You are
well off, Cornelli, are you not? You do not know what trouble is, do
you, child?"

Cornelli shook her head.

"Yes, of course. And why should you? It does one good to see your
bright eyes. Come to see me sometimes; I like to see a happy child
like you."

Cornelli replied that she would gladly come again. She really meant
to do so, for the woman always spoke kindly to her. After saying
good-bye, she ran away again, jumping and bounding as before. The
innkeeper's wife meantime muttered to herself, while she looked after
Cornelli: "I really think there is nothing better than to be always
merry."

The contents of the letter, which the little girl had taken to be
mailed, were as follows:

ILLER-STREAM, 28th of April, 18--.