Did she remember anything about it?Yes, certainly, for she had given him the beautiful hymn-book inremembrance of this; and when the first new moon in the first new yearafter this event came round, he took a piece of bread, a penny, andhis hymn-book, and went out into the open air, and opened the bookto see what psalm he should turn up. It was a psalm of praise andthanksgiving. Then he opened the book again to see what would turnup for little Emily. He took great pains not to open the book in theplace where the funeral hymns were, and yet he got one that referredto the grave and death. But then he thought this was not a thing inwhich one must believe; for all that he was startled when soonafterwards the pretty little girl had to lie in bed, and thedoctor's carriage stopped at the gate every day.
  "They will not keep her with them," said the porter's wife. "Thegood God knows whom He will summon to Himself."
  But they kept her after all; and George drew pictures and sentthem to her. He drew the Czar's palace; the old Kremlin at Moscow,just as it stood, with towers and cupolas; and these cupolas lookedlike gigantic green and gold cucumbers, at least in George'sdrawing. Little Emily was highly pleased, and consequently, when aweek had elapsed, George sent her a few more pictures, all withbuildings in them; for, you see, she could imagine all sorts of thingsinside the windows and doors.
  He drew a Chinese house, with bells hanging from every one ofsixteen stories. He drew two Grecian temples with slender marblepillars, and with steps all round them. He drew a Norwegian church. Itwas easy to see that this church had been built entirely of wood, hewnout and wonderfully put together; every story looked as if it hadrockers, like a cradle. But the most beautiful of all was thecastle, drawn on one of the leaves, and which he called "Emily'sCastle." This was the kind of place in which she must live. That iswhat George had thought, and consequently he had put into thisbuilding whatever he thought most beautiful in all the others. Ithad carved wood-work, like the Norwegian church; marble pillars,like the Grecian temple; bells in every story; and was crowned withcupolas, green and gilded, like those of the Kremlin of the Czar. Itwas a real child's castle, and under every window was written what thehall or the room inside was intended to be; for instance: "HereEmily sleeps;" "Here Emily dances;" "Here Emily plays at receivingvisitors." It was a real pleasure to look at the castle, and rightwell was the castle looked at accordingly.
  "Charming!" said the General.
  But the old Count- for there was an old Count there, who was stillgrander than the General, and had a castle of his own- said nothing atall; he heard that it had been designed and drawn by the porter'slittle son. Not that he was so very little, either, for he had alreadybeen confirmed. The old Count looked at the pictures, and had hisown thoughts as he did so.
  One day, when it was very gloomy, gray, wet weather, the brightestof days dawned for George; for the Professor at the Academy called himinto his room.
  "Listen to me, my friend," said the Professor; "I want to speak toyou. The Lord has been good to you in giving you abilities, and He hasalso been good in placing you among kind people. The old Count atthe corner yonder has been speaking to me about you. I have alsoseen your sketches; but we will not say any more about those, forthere is a good deal to correct in them. But from this time forwardyou may come twice a-week to my drawing-class, and then you willsoon learn how to do them better. I think there's more of thearchitect than of the painter in you. You will have time to think thatover; but go across to the old Count this very day, and thank Godfor having sent you such a friend."
  It was a great house- the house of the old Count at the corner.Round the windows elephants and dromedaries were carved, all fromthe old times; but the old Count loved the new time best, and whatit brought, whether it came from the first floor, or from thecellar, or from the attic.
  "I think," said, the porter's wife, "the grander people are, thefewer airs do they give themselves. How kind and straightforward theold count is!