Katrinka looked after them in disappointed amaze, again self-conscious and awkwardly shy. She ran to the tailor. The tailor laid his hand gently on her shoulder. They elbowed their way through the crowds, which with holiday fickleness, had already forgotten Katrinka and her dancing and were listening to a group of soldiers who had come to the children's park and were singing rollicking airs. Katrinka asked, looking wistfully up into the tailor's face.
Nobody can answer that.
Many another child has sent messages to the Little Father, but I am afraid their prayers seldom reach him. But keep a brave heart. My pocket is heavy with the silver that the great ladies and gentlemen sent to you. Perhaps after you arrive in St. Petersburg, Stefan Norvitch will know of some way to reach the good Czar. In the Imperial park the parade was still going on but Catherine was nowhere in sight.