that it is scarcely possible to go there."

"Oh! that is easy enough," said Stineli. "You have to go farther and
farther, that is all; and at the end you will surely get there."

"But my father told me something else. Do you know, Stineli, when you
are travelling and stop at an inn, and eat something and sleep there,
then there is something to pay, and you must have money for that."

"Oh! we have lots of money," cried Stineli triumphantly. But her
companion was not triumphant.

"That is exactly as good as nothing. I know that by the affair of the
fiddle," he said sadly.

"Then it will be better for you to stay at home, Rico. Look! it is
beautiful here at home, I am sure."

The lad sat thoughtfully silent for a long time, leaning his head on his
hand, and his eyebrows brought in a close line down over his eyes. At
last he turned again to Stineli, who had been gathering the soft green
moss that grew around the spot where they were lying, and of which she
made a tiny bed with two pillows and a coverlet. She meant to carry them
home to the sick Urschli.

"You say I had better stay at home, Stineli; but, do you know, it is
just as if I did not know where my home really is."

"Oh, dear me! what do you mean?" cried the girl; and in her surprise she
threw away a whole handful of moss. Your home is here, of course. It is