And on his altar stood a rose, quite fresh, as fresh as _she_ had
been before the never-ending work had tired her. Tired her! Yes,
she had not been one of the strong ones; and life with its blows
and knocks had been too brutal for her! He had not forgotten how,
after a day's cleaning or ironing, she would throw herself on the
sofa and say in a complaining little voice, "I am so tired!" Poor
little thing, this earth had not been her home, she had only played
once, on tour, as it were, and then had gone far away.

"She lacked sunshine," the doctor had said, for at that time they
couldn't afford sun, because rooms on the sunny side are so expensive.

But now he had sun without having known it; he stood right in the
sunlight, but it was too late. Midsummer was past, and soon the
sun would disappear again, stay away for a year and then come back.
Things are very strange in this world!



THE PILOT'S TROUBLES

The pilot cutter lay outside, beyond the last beacon fire on the
headland; the winter sun had set long ago and the sea ran high; it
was the real sea with real huge breakers. Suddenly the first mate
signalled: "Sailing ship to windward."

Far out at sea, a long way off the harbour, a brig was visible; she
had backed her sails and hoisted the pilot's flag; she was asking
to be taken into port.