Rico and Wiseli | Page 9

the room, went down the
staircase, and across into the opposite house, where she called out to
tell the neighbor and the grandmother the sad news; and thence she ran
on to the teacher and to the mayor.
One after another they came, and entered the quiet room until it was
full of people; for the news spread from one to another of what had
taken place. And in the midst of all the tumult, and of all the clamor of
the crowd of neighbors, Rico stood by the bedside speechless,
motionless, and gazed at his father. All through the week the house was
filled with people who wished to look at the man, and hear from the
cousin how it had all happened; so that the lad heard it repeated over
and over, that his father had been at work down in St. Gall on the
railroad.
He had received a deep wound on the head when they were blasting a
rock; and, as he could not work any longer, he wished to go home to
take care of himself until the wound was healed. But the long
journey--sometimes on foot, sometimes in an open wagon--was too
much for him; and when he had reached his home on Sunday, towards
evening, he he had lain down on the bed never to rise again. Without
any one knowing it, he had passed away; for he was already stiff when
Rico had found him. On the following Sunday the burial took place.
Rico was the only mourner to follow the coffin. Several kind neighbors
joined in, and thus the little procession went on to Sils. In the church,
Rico heard the pastor when he read out, "The deceased was called
Henrico Trevillo, and was a native of Peschiera on the Lake of Garda."
These words brought the feeling to Rico that he had heard something
that he knew perfectly well before, and yet could not recollect. He had
always seen a picture of the lake before his eyes when he had sung,--
"One evening In Peschiera,"
with his father, but he had never known the reason. He repeated the
name softly to himself, while one old song after another arose in his
memory.
As he came back from the burial all alone, he saw the grandmother
seated on the log of wood, and Stineli by her side. She beckoned him to
come over to them. She gave the lad a bit of cake and another to Stineli,
and said now they might go off together for a walk. Rico ought not to
be alone.

So the children rambled off together, hand in hand. The grandmother
remained seated on her log, sadly gazing after the black-haired lad until
they had wandered slowly up the hillside and passed out of sight. Then
she said softly to herself,--
"Whate'er He does, or lets be done, Is always for the best."

CHAPTER VI
.
RICO'S MOTHER.
Along the road from Sils came the teacher leaning on his staff. He had
assisted at the burial. He coughed and cleared his throat; and as he drew
near to the grandmother and bade her "good evening," he seated
himself by her side. "If you have no objection, I will sit here with you
for a few moments, neighbor," said he; "for I feel very badly in my
throat and chest. But what can we expect when we are almost seventy
years old, and have witnessed such a funeral as this one to-day? He was
not thirty-five years of age, and as strong as a tree."
"It always sets me thinking," said the grandmother, "when I, an old
woman of seventy-five years, am left, and here and there a young
person is called away,--a useful one, too."
"Yet the old folks are good for something. Who else can set an example
to the youth?" remarked the teacher. "But what is your opinion,
neighbor: what will become of the little fellow over yonder, do you
think?"
"Yes, what will become of him?" repeated the old woman. "I also ask
myself that question; and if my only reliance were upon human help, I
should not know of an answer. But there is a heavenly Father who
looks after the forsaken children. He will provide something for the
lad."
"Will you not tell me, neighbor, how it happened that the Italian
married the daughter of your friend who lived over there opposite? One
never knows how these people may turn out."
"It happened as such things always happen, neighbor. You know how
my old friend Anne-Dete had lost all her children, and her husband also,
and lived alone in the cottage over yonder with Marie-Seppli, who was
a merry little girl. About eleven or twelve years ago Trevillo made his

appearance here. He