talk enough about it at first, but everything in the world loses its freshness, and when the novelty of the matter is over, the talk will subside; and nobody, I think, can shame you for taking up a helpless, deserted child. I pray to the good God to protect you from all annoyance and trouble on this account. Once more, dear friend, I entreat you to be a good, loving father to my little Pepíc̓ek, and I shall be grateful to you till the day of my death.
“P.S.—If any intrigues should threaten him from Labutín, shield the helpless innocent to the utmost, and come between him and all harm. Naninka must make his panada very thin, so that he may digest it asily.”
Father Cvok finished reading the letter, and took the fifty-florin note from the inside fold of it.
“There was a banknote in the letter?” inquired Naninka.
“Yes, one for fifty florins, Naninka.”
“Didn’t I know it? The child is from some gentle nest. Wasn’t I right?” exclaimed the housekeeper.
Father Cvok approached her seriously, and said, ‘Naninka, give me your hand and word, that whatever I shall read to you from this letter will never pass your lips, but that you will keep every syllable of it a profound secret. You are even mentioned in it yourself.”
The housekeeper gave him her hand, and promised faithfully never to divulge a word. He then began to read aloud. Spinster Naninka listened eagerly, and soon tear after tear dropped from her eyes. When the letter was read to the end she wiped her eyes with her
