During the following week Palko found no time to visit his Sunshine Valley. His grandfather had promised the people at the chapel-house, as well as the shopkeeper of the village, that his grandson would bring them strawberries and mushrooms every day. The task of filling his two baskets each day, and carrying them down the mountain, took up a good part of his time.
Visitors had arrived at the chapel-house. They were Father Malina’s sister, her husband and her two children. Every time Palko arrived with his baskets the cook gave him a piece of meat or cake or fine white bread; and one day, when he arrived just at lunch-time, he was taken in and given such a meal as he had never tasted in his life before. The old cook noticed that he set aside a portion of the meat to take to his grandfather, and so she added to it another big slice. Dunaj, Lesina’s dog, who had become almost like a shadow to the little boy, and who had come in for his share of these good things, had eaten so much that he panted heavily as they climbed the mountain path, homeward bound. Juriga was greatly pleased on opening his surprise parcel to find that Palko had thought of his grandfather.
“You may be sure that I shall remember your kindness to me, Palko,” said the old gentleman, as he counted out the strawberry money. “I will put this money aside for you. Just keep on gathering fruit while you can, and when winter comes, and footwear is needed, we will buy shoes with your earnings.”
So Palko worked hard at his gathering and did good business in the village, especially with his two principal customers, the shopkeeper and the chapel-house. Nevertheless, he would have gladly done without all the tidbits that came to him through these friends in the village, if he could only have gone more often to the cave to read the sacred pages which would tell more of the wonderful story of God’s Son, and the way to the true Sunshine Country.
If the Valley were not so far away, or if he could have carried the book home with him, he would have saved so much time. However, the book was not his, and, therefore, what right had he to carry it home? Thus he always hailed with joy the arrival of Sunday, which gave him time to visit the cave and learn more of the contents of the precious volume.
One day he had found a spot that was just covered with the finest of strawberries and had gathered a basketful, while Dunaj made life miserable for the lizards and rabbits of the mountainside.
“But why,” said Palko, still thinking of his last reading, “is the same story repeated four times in the book? I suppose it might be to make people pay more attention to it.” Besides, there were new details here and there in each account, such as that of the story in the Gospels of the paralytic man who was lowered by his friends through the flat roof of the house to the feet of Jesus that He might heal him, and how strange it seemed to the people who stood around that Jesus should tell the man his sins were pardoned.
What were his sins? Yesterday, Father Malina had explained sternly to his nephews in Palko’s presence that it was indeed a great sin to steal fruit from the neighbors. Perhaps the paralytic had been robbing an orchard, too, and had fallen out of a tree; who knows but what that was the cause of his awful sickness? That being the case, why was Jesus the one who forgave him?
Perhaps He was the owner of the orchard. “But if I do a wrong thing, is it necessary for Jesus to pardon me? That must be so, for the book says He has the power to forgive sins.”
Interrupting his work among the strawberries for a moment, Palko put his hands together and bowing his head, said: “I have sinned so many times, and until now I have never asked anyone for pardon. Lord Jesus, seeing that you have the power to do so, I pray you please pardon me, too.” After waiting a little while, he resumed his work and said: “Many thanks, for I truly believe you have pardoned me in spite of all the wicked things that I have done. I had no idea before how bad I have been. Have I not broken my grandfather’s cane so that he might not beat me any more? Also, did I not steal my uncle’s whip, and eggs from my aunt? To be sure, they both punished me well for it, but I must confess that what I did was wicked. I wonder what Jesus meant when He said: ‘Those that are well need no physician,’ and ‘I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.’ What does it mean — repentance? The people that came to Jesus showed their repentance by confessing their sins. I suppose that each one would tell the wrong things that he had done, and then Jesus pardoned him. So then, everybody in the world ought to tell everything to Jesus in order that He might pardon them. I suppose everybody does do so. Only I, poor ignorant boy that I am, I never knew anything of this, because I am still so small. I’m going to ask grandfather this very day if Jesus has pardoned his sins.”
Soon Palko had filled his two baskets with strawberries and picked a good quantity of mushrooms.
“Come here, Dunaj, we must go at once! Leave the little birds in peace. Who knows but that it is sinful to frighten them as you are doing? Poor little things, see how terrified they are as they fly away. If I had to frighten them so, I suppose it would be sinful of me, but being only a dog, He would excuse you.”
Little moved by this sermon, Dunaj trotted contentedly behind his master. As they came out of the wood, with the village lying before them at the foot of the mountains, Liska caught up with them.
“Hallo, there! Where are you off to so early?”
“I am taking these strawberries to the chapel-house, Uncle mine.”
“Go ahead, my lad; you will soon have earned those shoes of yours.”
“And you, dear Uncle, where are you going?”
“I? I am going to confess. It is a long time since I have done so. But I suppose it is necessary to fix up my sins once in a while.”
“You are right,” said Palko, his great blue eyes sparkling with joy. “You too have settled the question of your sins. I suppose you have told the Lord Jesus of the wrong you have done, and He has pardoned you as He did the paralytic man?”
“What are you talking about?” said the astonished Liska. “I only said I was going to confession.”
“What is it, then — to confess?”
“Oh, I go to the church and Father Malina gives me absolution, and he forgives me my sins.”
“Father Malina! Has he the power to do that?”
“What a funny boy! How do I know? I only know I’m a sinner, and it’s better to come to the priest to confess two or three times a year, and I expect God will be good to me.”
“So, then, you don’t know for a certainty that he has the power? When you come out of the church after confession, will you be sure that your sins are pardoned?”
“Nobody can be sure of that before one’s death. When we die, we shall know all about that sort of thing.”
“Uncle, if you go to Jesus, He will surely pardon your sins, just as He did the paralytic who was let down by cords before Him through the roof of the house.”
“What’s that you say? Are you talking about Jesus Christ? But, my dear boy, we’re just a bunch of poor ignorant people and the priest is like the Lord God on earth. He arranges everything for us. All I have to do is to go to him.”
“Then, has God said about him also: ‘This is My Beloved Son, obey ye Him’?”
“What on earth has happened to you, Palko, that you try to turn me upside down with such questions?”
“Don’t be angry with me, Uncle mine.” Palko’s great eyes seemed to look right through those of the man beside him. “It is only that when I asked the Lord Jesus today to pardon my sins, He did it right away! If only you could know how happy I feel! Now, goodbye, Uncle, for I must go first to the lower village.”
For some minutes Liska watched the retreating figure of the boy. “What is this he says? Christ has pardoned his sins? What sins? I doubt if the dear boy has committed any. Oh, that I might also have the same certainty of pardon that he seems to have! But a man like me, who has committed so many more and done such terrible things! Who can be sure of pardon? We go and confess because all our forefathers have done so before us, and it must be the proper thing to do. Now Palko comes to question me as to whether the priest has the necessary power to pardon and to give us absolution. Has not his reverence so affirmed it before the altar? ‘I as the servant of God declare to you by virtue of my sacred office that your sins are pardoned you?’ It is thus clear that he has the right, at least by order of the church. It is as it should be and one might as well believe that which ought to be, so why trouble one’s brains with the boy’s questions?” Liska straightened himself and made his way to the village church, which was already filling with the faithful, who had come with the same purpose as himself, but not knowing much more than he did on the subject.
Meanwhile, Palko had arrived at the chapel-house and, finding the door open at the end of the garden, he saved both time and steps by taking a short cut to the kitchen door. It so happened that he met Father Malina coming down the garden walk. He was too young a man to have so much gray hair, and such a wrinkled and pallid face.
Palko kissed the hand of the reverend father, as his grandfather had told him was the proper thing to do.
“Well, well, and so here come the strawberries again! I suppose you gathered them last night,” and his reverence selected a couple of the most luscious ones. “No, indeed, sir,” said Palko, “for then they would not be fresh by now. I gathered them this very morning, so I had to be out in the field before sunrise.”
“Well, you certainly ought to come to something, my son, seeing that you are not afraid of work. Take these over to the kitchen, and tell them I would like you to have a good dinner. Better leave your dog here, for he’ll likely have trouble with the cat.”
That day everything seemed to be wonderful for Palko. In the first place, he had found such a lot of fine strawberries that morning, and then Father Malina had been so kind to him. Lastly, in the kitchen they had given him such a dinner that he wouldn’t need to eat any more that day, and, besides, they had filled his bag with buns and cakes and sweetmeats from some feast of the night before; and all this without forgetting to pay him a good price for his strawberries.
“Just wait a bit longer, Dunaj,” Palko said on joining his dog again. “As soon as we get back to the mountainside you’re going to have such a wonderful dinner.”
Father Malina was waiting at the bottom of the lane.
‘Well, my son, did you get your dinner?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, and I wish to thank you so much.”
“Did they pay you? Show me what they gave you. Oh, my! Isn’t that quite a lot for a few strawberries?”
Frightened by such a question, the boy stole an anxious glance at the priest to see whether he was serious, but it was impossible to read anything in that impassive face. “I really don’t know,” said Palko, somewhat abashed. “Grandfather told me to ask that much, but besides the strawberries there were quite a few mushrooms, sir.”
“Then, this is your grandfather’s money?”
“Oh, no, sir, it’s my own. Grandfather puts it aside to buy shoes and fur linings for me for the winter. What a wonderful thing it will be if I am able to earn enough money to buy a new shirt (referring here to a certain finely embroidered shirt, with wide sleeves, which is an essential part of the national dress in Czechoslovakia), but I’m afraid they are too expensive.”
“That’s true,” replied Father Malina gravely. “Here is something to help you obtain the necessary sum more quickly,” and a few silver pieces slipped into Palko’s pocket to keep company with the copper ones already there. “Also, as you constantly bring us fruit from the mountain-side, I would like to have you try some of our fruit from the garden here.” Saying this, he put a couple of big pears into Palko’s hands. How his mouth watered when his teeth went into the luscious side of one of them, but the other one went into the bag for his grandfather. Then politely thanking his benefactor, he turned to go, but suddenly changing his mind, he came back again.
“What’s the trouble, my son?” said the priest kindly, “did you forget something?”
“No, sir. You are the priest of the church, is it not so? The people come to confess to you. Is it true that you have the power to forgive their sins?”
At this unexpected question, Father Malina was somewhat taken aback.
“Have you something you wish to confess to me, my son?”
“I? Oh, no, sir,” and the boy’s eyes sparkled. “What do you think I did? It was just what the people did by the River Jordan. I, too, confessed everything to Jesus, and He has pardoned me, I’m sure of it! I only asked you because of the others, and I want also to know more about the whole thing, sir. Perhaps they do not know that Jesus is willing to forgive them all their sins, if they would only come to Him. Are you also able to forgive them?” And Palko’s tone was earnest, “Has God said of you, also: ‘This is My beloved Son, obey Him’?”
Putting his hand on the ruddy head of the lad who looked up at him so earnestly, the priest gave him a keen look. A great friend of all the people, he had a special love for children, often saying that the future of the nation was with them. In this poor boy, the son of a humble wood-cutter, he saw at once a great soul.
“No, my son, our Lord has not spoken of me in that way; that would have been impossible, because Jesus Christ is the only begotten Son of God. Him we must hear, and Him only. The only thing I am able to do is to assure the people that the good Lord will pardon their sins, if they are ready to do many good works.”
“Then a priest cannot arrange everything like God can for the people?”
“Certainly not! Who has told you such an absurd thing?”
“My Uncle Liska told me so. As for you, sir, surely the Lord will pardon you also, if you ask Him, because you do so many good things such as the good dinner you gave me today, and the money for my shirt. I am sure that you obey God and His Son Jesus.”
“There goes the bell, Palko, and I must hurry along.”
The priest went into the church waving a friendly hand to the little boy, who turned up the mountain path accompanied by Dunaj.
“I am sure that you obey God and His Son Jesus!” As he performed his priestly office these words continually came back to Father Malina and seemed to pierce his very soul. “That which this lad has spoken of has been the lifelong problem of my heart. In spite of all the good that I do to others, I know I do not obey Thee, O Son of God! I know my sins are not pardoned, and that these unhappy ones who come to confess today shall not find either the real peace or the true pardon. Yet, being the parish priest, it is my duty to receive their confession. But where has this boy found such absolute security and confidence that he can say: ‘I confessed everything to Jesus and He has pardoned me, I am sure of it’?”
Engrossed in his thoughts, Father Malina took his breviary, which happened to open at that passage in St. Matthew where the angel said to Joseph: “And thou shalt call His name Jesus, for He shall save His people from their sins.” These words took possession of him with such power that he almost forgot his waiting parishioners.
“Redemption, liberation from the power and guilt of sin, it is for this I sigh without being able to secure it! Jesus Christ has brought it to the world, but how must I go to Him?”
Meanwhile, as Father Malina, with an agitated heart and an afflicted spirit, officiated in the little village church, Palko had climbed to his cave and was soon lost in his reading. A storm was gathering at the other end of the valley and the thunder muttered behind the clouds, but in the Sunshine Valley all was yet peace, and warmth, and quietness, as Palko, oblivious of his surroundings, wandered in the new land of the Scriptures that had so completely captivated him.
A man was climbing up the mountain path looking toward the ground. It was Lesina. He strode along quickly, seeking shelter from the threatening rain, and giving little heed to the lovely valley spread before him. The sadness on his face today seemed darker than the clouds which were now obscuring the horizon.
It was on such a day as this, he thought, that some years before, he had committed an act which he never could undo, and which never could be driven from his memory. By day it pursued him at his work, and by night it kept him from sleeping. Now, as he strode along the mountain top looking for some protection, the sound of thunder found an echo in the thunder in his own soul.
Great drops of rain began to fall, and Lesina looked all around trying to discover a hiding place in order to save his holiday clothes from the rain. Happily, about twenty yards distant, he saw a rock and running to it he found the entrance to the cave, inside which an interesting picture presented itself. There, seated on the ground, with one arm around the sleeping Dunaj, was Palko, absorbed in reading a book which was propped up on a rocky support. Lesina had little love for the boy, the sight of whom always seemed to send a stab of pain through his heart. The reason was that years ago, he, too, had a son whom he had lost through that terrible act of his, and the bitter tears he had shed through the long years since had not brought that priceless treasure back to him. At this moment, looking in at the peaceful scene before him, he could not help thinking, “My little Mischko would be about the same age now.” With a sore heart he hid his face in his hands. Somehow, he now seemed strangely drawn to this child, as if he wanted to press him to his heart.
At that moment, a flash of lightning, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder, awakened Dunaj, who, raising his head and cocking his ears, rushed to his real master with a yelp of delight, wagging his tail contentedly.
“Uncle Lesina!” exclaimed Palko, springing to his feet. “How ever did you find the way here?”
When the storm roars, one does not like to find oneself alone. So it was that Palko forgot his natural shyness in Lesina’s presence.
“I just came in here to find shelter from the storm. How do you come to be here?” It was the first time Lesina had ever spoken in a friendly manner to the boy.
“I will tell you all about it, Uncle Lesina, but first come in where it is dry and sit down. Here is a table and chair for you too.”
“This seems for all the world like a dwelling,” remarked Lesina, “but you haven’t told me yet what you are doing here. Your grandfather thinks you are off gathering strawberries and mushrooms.”
“I finished my work and returned from the village long ago,” said Palko.
“But have you had anything to eat?”
“Yes! They gave us a wonderful dinner at the chapel-house, didn’t they, Dunaj?”
The dog enthusiastically gave assent to this remark by licking his chops and giving a wag of his tail.
“Well, but it is now four o’clock in the afternoon. Why do you stay here all day, instead of going back to the hut?”
“I have not had time. You see, it is Sunday, and grandfather, therefore, does not need me so I want to hurry to get to the end of this wonderful book. My! what thunder! I remember some time ago storms like this made me terribly afraid, but now I know that the Lord Jesus is always with me, and I’m not a bit afraid when it thunders. It’s just as if the good Lord Himself was speaking to us.”
Lesina could not keep his eyes off Palko. What a lovely child! How was it that he had not paid much attention to him until this moment?
“What is this book you have here? A New Testament! Where did you get it from? Haven’t you got one at home?”
“No, but I will tell you all about it from the beginning, if you want me to.”
“All right! I’m listening,” said Lesina, seating himself with his legs doubled under him on the floor of the cave with Dunaj at his side. Palko told his story, and Lesina listened now with a lively interest, while the boy explained to him how he had discovered the Sunshine Valley and the Holy Book at the same time, and how he was now seeking the road that led to the true Country of the Eternal Sunshine.
Opening the book at the first page, Lesina studied, as well as he could in the gloom, the words of good counsel written there.
“What have you read today, Palko?” he asked the boy.
“Oh, a good bit, up to the place where it tells about the terrible time when they tortured Him until He died. I suppose further on it will tell about His resurrection as in the other part. I wished to finish the part called St. Mark.”
“Well, as soon as the clouds pass by and I can see clearly enough, I will read you the rest; it ought not to be very much,” said Lesina.
It seemed as if the sun had heard his words, for almost immediately a ray of light shot through the clouds, although the rain continued to fall quite heavily.
“All right, Palko, here comes the light, let’s sit down and read.” So, with Lesina on one side of the opening of the cave and Palko on the other, with Dunaj in the middle, the reading began. At their feet lay the beautiful Sunshine Valley, now made even more lovely by the refreshing rain; above their heads the lightning still crackled; and in the west the sun seemed to sparkle with a new splendor, while far away in the east a wonderful rainbow seemed to arch itself over the door of heaven itself. The rain gradually ceased, and all about on the grass blades the raindrops shone like a million diamonds, as far as the eye could see.
Lesina read about that wonderful Easter morning, when the three women, on coming to the tomb, found the great stone door rolled away, the sepulcher empty, and the angel who gave them the glorious message: “The Crucified One lives and waits for you in Galilee!” He also read how the risen Lord appeared first to Mary Magdalene, and sent her to the disciples, and afterward to the two wayfarers on the road to Emmaus; and finally to the eleven whom He rebuked on account of their unbelief, and to whom He gave the final order to go into all the world and preach the Gospel. Then, oh, then! Lesina read in the closing words to the astonished boy something which he had not yet heard, namely, that Jesus suddenly ascended up to heaven where He seated Himself at the right hand of the Father.
Palko looked up into the sky. Now he knew where Jesus had gone, and why, although living, He was no longer on the earth. He was there above and beyond that beautiful door in the sky. The Father had a glorious throne up yonder, and the Son was seated at His side.
“Now I understand!” he exclaimed in a tone of triumph. “Up there, on the other side of that beautiful door is where one can find the true country where the sun never goes down! What we are looking at here is only the outer border. Is it not so, Uncle?”
Lesina did not answer; perhaps the boy was right. God’s Word was not unknown to him. He had been the best scholar in the school, and he had had the highest mark in the catechism class. He had known where the Lord had gone, only he had never thought about it before. Christ had always appeared somewhat vague and strange to him (as He is to so many thousands of those who have been brought up in the knowledge of the Gospel story, who know all the details but have never really considered the Savior as an actual living Person, one who would become a reality in their own lives).
“Oh!” sighed Palko, “if I could only reach the end of the book quicker, but it is important that I should read line after line, and word after word. It goes so slowly, yet I daren’t miss anything, as I do not know in what page it might tell me something of the road to the Sunshine Country.”
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Lesina remembered the words and slowly recited them out loud.
“Yes,” said Palko. “I saw those words on one of the pages further on, but I did not understand what they meant. Would it be that He will come to show me the way to the Country, and take me by the hand and lead me there, so that I shall make no mistake?”
“That is quite possible; but just now He is very, very far away from us up there. Haven’t we just read about it here in the book?” At Lesina’s words, Palko lifted his eyes in dismay to that beautiful door again. Yes, it did seem far, so very far away. Here he was a poor boy down on the earth; what a great distance it seemed to where Jesus was in heaven.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Lesina,” said Palko suddenly, with a new look of joy on his face. “He is not only up yonder, but have I not read in the other part His promise to the disciples: ‘Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world’? His home, yes, it is above, but He lives near to us, and at this moment He is here with us.”
‘With us! Where?” said Lesina, incredulously.
“Oh, Uncle Lesina, please do not speak so,” said Palko softly. “You will offend Him. Haven’t you just read to me how ‘He rebuked them because of their unbelief’?” He promised to be with us, and I believe it! Remember how the king of the gnomes said: ‘A cloud in front and a cloud behind!’ I think it must be something like that with Jesus. He makes Himself invisible to us, for He can do everything, and so I believe He’s here.” A clap of thunder sounded in the distance like a solemn “Amen!” to Palko’s last words.
“Shall we read on in order to get to the end of the book more quickly?” asked Lesina.
“Yes, please, Uncle. You read so well and so clearly that I understand every word.”
One, two, and three hours passed, without their having noticed the length of time, and, when at last Lesina closed the book, the rain had ceased some time before, and the paths were now completely dry.
Palko’s surprise had increased more and more as the reading progressed. What beautiful stories there were in St. Luke, which he had not found in the previous parts: the birth of John the Baptist, and some wonderful new things about the Lord Jesus and his childhood, the appearance of the angels to the shepherds in the country, how the shepherds found Jesus in a manger in the town, and then afterward how the boy Jesus visited Jerusalem with his parents. Palko almost wept for joy, it was such a beautiful story.
“I never thought that Jesus was once a boy like me!” exclaimed Palko, “and He, no doubt, would be very obedient and win everybody’s love.”
Lesina seemed to catch Palko’s enthusiasm. It was as if he were reading these things for the first time, and they truly rejoiced his heart.
“Why leave the book so far up here?” he said as they were starting for home, “let us take it with us and read a few pages each day. Your grandfather can then profit by the reading also. On Sundays you can carry it with you, and when the book is finished we can leave it here again.”
Palko gladly agreed to this arrangement.
“I have never dared to take it away before,” he said, as he went home with Lesina, “but if you think the Savior will not think ill of us for taking the book away, it would be splendid to have it with us.”
It was late when at last they arrived at the hut, but as Palko was with Lesina, his grandfather did not scold him. Supper was soon ready, and the old man was delighted at the sight of so much money and the magnificent pear, which Palko had brought home for him.
That night Palko dreamed of a beautiful boy who beckoned to him, saying: “Follow me, I am going to lead you to the true Sunshine Country.” After ascending behind his young guide to the crest of a rugged mountain crag, he was able to make out a group of three crosses, and as his friend pointed to the center one he saw the form of a Man nailed there. Palko began to cry and sob so badly that Lesina, who was lying near him, thought it better to wake him up.
“What’s the matter, son, what are you crying about?”
“Uncle mine! I cannot bear to think of it! What terrible suffering they must have caused Him!”
“He’s still dreaming,” said Lesina to himself.
“Jesus, my dear Jesus,” said Palko quietly, “how could they be so cruel as to make you suffer so? If it is possible to do so, please explain to me why your heavenly Father did not save you, especially when He loved you so.”
Palko had long since fallen asleep again, but Lesina still lay awake with Palko’s last words ringing in his ears. Yes, why did Christ have to suffer and die and why did God forsake Him? Finally, he remembered the words on that first page of the boy’s New Testament: ‘Read with attention, line after line, and it will teach thee the way.’ Could it possibly give him an answer to those other terrible questions which came to trouble his lonely and unhappy soul?
Every day from that time onwards, after the mid-day meal, which had previously been their time for rest, they all read together a portion from the Holy Book.
Juriga listened admiringly to Lesina’s reading. The man read quite as well, if not better than the schoolmaster. He spoke to neighbor Liska of the Book discovered by Palko, and especially regarding the strange paragraph on the first page. This aroused Liska’s curiosity and from that day onward Liska also became one of the group of daily listeners in Juriga’s hut. They heard old truths and stories that they had known for many years — at least some of them — but as the reading progressed, the whole of it seemed new and of infinite value. If someone had given them a New Testament in the ordinary way, they probably would not have been at all interested, but the strange mystery that surrounded the finding of it as well as the living and beautiful faith of Palko seemed to urge them to believe in a new and vivid way, and so at the end of the day’s work Liska and Juriga would get together and talk over what they had heard at the mid-day reading.
“Look, friend Juriga,” said Liska one day. “Ever since that boy of yours asked me whether the reverend Father in the village had the right to pardon my sins, I have not ceased to think about the matter. There’s not a shadow of doubt that, although we are only simple villagers, he cannot be in place of God for us — that much even I can understand. I know also that my sins are not pardoned and that I am not reconciled to God, and I cannot but wonder what use is my going to confession.”
“Perhaps we may discover the real truth from the Book,” said Juriga, leaning his shaggy head on his hand with a thoughtful air. A little later he said, “When Lesina read to us the other day about the paralytic, I would have liked to have been that same man, to have been carried to Jesus to be pardoned in the same way. I would go to the end of the world to find Him.”
One day, after the usual reading, Palko said to Juriga, “Grandfather, the corner where I sleep — may I consider it my own house?”
“Of course,” answered his grandfather, “you can call it your palace if you like.”
“Many thanks, sir,” said the little boy, apparently well satisfied with the reply.
That night when Juriga and Lesina returned from work they gazed with surprise at the transformation which Palko had made in his place. The whole corner had been swept absolutely clean, the bed placed in perfect order, and a large pitcher, although badly nicked around its top, was full of freshly gathered flowers while the wall was draped with leafy branches, as in the time of the Easter feast.
“Well, I declare!” said Lesina. “You must be expecting a distinguished guest, Palko.”
“Yes, indeed, Uncle. He has come to stay with us, and I have received Him into my house as Martha and Mary did!”
Palko’s elders smiled at this reply, but the boy’s little corner was such a sharp contrast to the disorder that reigned in the rest of the hut that the two men began to fix up their part as well, and Palko was given orders to sweep out the whole house.