There were also some drawings, and among
these one of a small house and a well, with a man standing near it,
particularly attracted Hunne's attention, and he took the book in his own
hands, and began turning the leaves.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed with a knowing look, as he took out a piece of paper
that lay folded between the leaves; "Mamma has one like this; it belongs
to Lili; the one I am going to America to find."
Julius laughed aloud. "What in the world are you chattering to Dora about
now, Hunne?" But his mother glanced, quickly at the little boy as she
caught his words, took the paper from his hand and read what was written
there.
Great tears fell from her eyes as she read; the memory of long past hours
of her happy childhood rose before her, clear and distinct, and almost
overpowered her, Her own mother's face, and all the sights and sounds of
childhood! It was the other half of her own poem that she held in her
hand, the half that had been kept by her dearly loved friend. She gave it
silently to her husband; she could not trust her voice to read it aloud.
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