"Father, it's dinner-time. Come along home," cries little Louise, racing
down the hill with her yellow plaits flying about her ears. But she
stops cautiously a little distance off--there is no knowing what sort of
temper father may be in.
"Thanks, little monkey. Got anything good for dinner to-day?"
"Aha! that's a secret," said the girl in a teasing voice; she was
beaming now, with delight at finding him approachable. "Catch me,
father! I can run quicker than you can!"
"I'm afraid I'm too tired just now, my little girl."
"Oh, poor papa! are you tired?" And she came up and took him by the
hand. Then she slipped her arm into his--it was just as good fun to walk
up the hill on her father's arm like a grown-up young lady.
Then came the frosts. And one morning the hilltops were turned into
leaden grey clouds from which the snow came sweeping down. Merle stood
at the window, her face grey in the clammy light. She looked down the
valley to where the mountains closed it in; it seemed still narrower
than before; one's breath came heavily, and one's mind seemed stifled
under cold damp wrappings.
Ugh! Better go out into the kitchen and set to work again--work--work
and forget.
Then one day there came a letter telling her that her mother was dead.
Chapter III
DEAR KLAUS BROCK,--
Legendary being! Cast down from Khedivial heights one day and up again
on high with Kitchener the next. But, in Heaven's name, what has taken
you to the Soudan? What made you go and risk your life at Omdurman? The
same old desperation, I suppose, that you're always complaining about.
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