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 it is wrong, and that must not be done. Oh, if only you didn't have to die! I can’t bear it!”

And Moni began to cry so hard, that he could no longer speak, and the kid bleated pitifully and crept far under his arm, as if it wanted to cling to him and be protected. Then Moni lifted the little goat on his shoulders, saying:

“Come, Mäggerli, I will carry you home once more to-day. Perhaps I can’t carry you much longer.”

When the flock came down to the Bath House, Paula was again standing on the watch. Moni put the young goat with the black one in the shed, and instead of going on farther, he came toward the young lady and was going past her into the house. She stopped him.

“Still no singing, Moni? Where are you going with such a troubled face?”

“I have to tell about something,” replied Moni, without lifting his eyes.

“Tell about something? What is it? Can’t I know?”

“I must tell the landlord. Something has been found.”

“Found? What is it? I have lost something, a beautiful cross.”

“Yes, that is just what it is.”

“What do you say?” exclaimed Paula, in the