Rico and Wiseli | Page 4

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.
"Yes, of course," said Rico, with a serious expression; "and I often
dream about it too, and see great red flowers there, and in the distance
the purple mountains."
"Oh! what one dreams does not count," said Stineli. "I dreamed once
that Peterli climbed, all alone, to the top of the highest pine-tree; and
when he was on the top twig, suddenly he changed into a bird and
called out, 'Come, Stineli, and put on my stockings for me.' So you see
that it does not mean any thing when you dream."
Rico pondered over this, for his dream might certainly mean something,
and yet only be thoughts passing through his mind. Now, however, they
were near the schoolhouse, and a troop of noisy children came towards
them from the opposite direction. They all entered together, and soon
the teacher came in. He was an old man with thin, gray hair, for he had

been teacher for an incredibly long time,--so long, that his hair had
grown gray and fallen out.
Now a busy spelling and pronouncing began; then followed the
multiplication-table, and, lastly, the singing. For this the teacher
brought out his old fiddle and tuned it. Then they began, and all
shouted at the top of their lungs,--
"Little lambkins, come down From the bright sunny height,"
and the teacher played the accompaniment.
Rico, however, had his eyes fixed so attentively upon the fiddle, and on
the teacher's fingers as he touched the strings, that he quite forgot the
song; and at this the whole choir lost their pitch, and fell away a
half-note, and the fiddle became uncertain, and lost a half-note also;
and then the voices fell lower still, until at last nobody could have told
where they were going to all together; but the teacher tossed his fiddle
upon the table and called out angrily, "What sort of a song do you call
that? You are nothing but a lot of screamers! I should like to know who
it is who sings false and spoils the whole time."
At this a little boy spoke up,--the one who sat nearest to Rico: "I know
why it all goes wrong. It always goes that way when Rico stops
singing."
The teacher himself knew that the fiddle was somewhat dependent on
Rico's leading.
"Rico, Rico! what is this that I hear?" he said, turning to the lad. "You
are generally a well-behaved boy; but inattention is a sad fault, as you
now see. One single careless scholar can easily spoil a whole song.
Now we will begin anew; and be more attentive, Rico."
After this the boy sang with his steady, clear voice; the fiddle followed,
and the children sang with all their might, and it went on very
satisfactorily to the very end.
The teacher was well satisfied, and rubbed his hands together, and then
drew his bow over the string, saying, with a pleased air, "It is a good
instrument, after all."

CHAPTER III
.
THE OLD SCHOOLMASTER'S FIDDLE.

Stineli and Rico freed themselves from the crowd of children gathered
before the schoolhouse, and wandered off together. "Were you thinking
so that you could not sing with us to-day, Rico?" asked Stineli. "Were
you thinking again about the lake?"
"No, it was quite another thing," replied the boy. "I know how to play
'Little lambkins,