They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “Let me know the truth. Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. She had found that proof. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it. I want to do something. She directed the orchestra to tune again.
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