them now and then.

On summer evenings the grandmother always sat by the door on a
tree-stump that was there, and often Stineli and Rico stood by her side
while she told them stories. But when the prayer-bell sounded from the
little church tower she always said, "Now say, 'Our Father;' and be
sure, children, that you never forget to say that prayer every evening;
the prayer-bells ring to remind you of that." "Now remember, little
ones," she would now and then repeat, "I have lived for a long, long
time, and had a great deal of experience, and I have never known a
single person who has not, at some time or other in his life, sore need
of 'Our Father;' but I have known many a one who has sought to say it
anxiously, and not found it, in his great need." So Stineli and Rico
stood reverently side by side and said their evening prayer.

Now May had come, and there was only a short time to pass before school
would cease, for under the trees there were signs of green, and the snow
had melted and vanished in many places. Rico had been standing for a
long time in the doorway making these welcome observations. At the same
time he looked again and again towards the opposite door, hoping that it
would open. It did at last, and out came Stineli.

"How long have you been standing there?" she called out merrily. "It is
early to-day, and we can go along slowly."

They took each other's hands, and went towards the schoolhouse.

"Are you always thinking about the lake?" asked Stineli as they
went along.