often stray off the road, and fall into ravines and places: they don't
know themselves where they are going, and he was always moving about
more or less."

That this was true of Rico nobody knew better than Stineli; and she
became dreadfully anxious from that time forth, which anxiety increased
every day to such a degree that she could neither eat nor sleep for
sorrow, and did her work, day after day, as if she did not know what she
was about.

Rico was not found: nobody had seen any thing of him. They ceased to
search for him, and the folks soon began to find consolation in the
thought, "It is just as well for the little fellow, after all; he was
forsaken, and had no one to care for him."




CHAPTER X.

A LITTLE LIGHT.


Stineli grew more and more thin and quiet from day to day. The little
ones called out complainingly, "Stineli never tells us stories now, and
never laughs any more." Her mother said to her father, "Do you notice
how changed she is?" And her father replied, "It is because she grows so
fast. She must get a little goat's milk early in the mornings."

After this had gone on for three weeks or so, Stineli's grandmother