HAPPY HOURS.
“Here he is! Here he is!” cried Squib, starting to his feet; and at that
cry Seppi looked up, and with a beaming face began hastily collecting
together his scattered studies, putting them away in the little satchel
kept for the purpose. As for Squib, he was already a hundred yards away,
dashing along like a veritable firework till he pulled up short, close
beside the stranger in the long coat, who was not a stranger to him now.
Moor had been quicker still, and was capering round Herr Adler in an
ecstasy of welcome, whilst Czar came up with an air of friendly
patronage, and sniffed at the outstretched hand quite affably.
“O sir, I am so glad you have come! Seppi and I have been counting the
days and wondering.”
“You see I have a good many friends to visit when I get into these
parts,” answered Herr Adler, smiling; “I have been making a little round
of old acquaintances. And have you been here every day, cheering up my
little friend Seppi?”
“I like to come,” answered Squib; “Seppi and I are great friends. I
think Seppi is a very nice boy. He is so good and patient about being
lame. I should think it must be so very hard to be lame. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I think it is one of the greatest trials that a boy can have to
bear; and Seppi was quite strong and active before the accident that
lamed him, as I dare say he has told you. But still he has a beautiful
place to live in, and his friends the goats to amuse him, and his
drawing and his carving which occupy his hands. And this summer it seems
he has another little friend to cheer him up. I am very pleased about
that, for his life out here is rather lonely, though he is so fond of
it.”
“Yes; you see Peter and Ann-Katherin are wanted at home. They can only
spare Seppi to mind the goats. And then he has Moor, and Moor is a very
nice dog. A dog is a very good kind of—of—_person_ to talk to when
you’ve got nobody else. I know that by Czar. I often think he’s nicer
than lots of the people one sees. I like dogs. They can’t talk, to be
sure, but they try with their eyes and their ears and their tails. I can
have quite nice talks with the dogs at home, out in the fields. We had a
lot of fox-terrier puppies in the spring. I used to have them all out
together, with Czar to take care of them, and teach them things. It was
great fun. You know dogs are just as different as people are. They look
all alike just at first; but they aren’t a bit really. They’re just as
different as children are when you get to know them.”
“Some people find children very much alike,” answered Herr Adler with a
smile. “I had a dear old friend, a professor, who married rather late in
life. He had some dear little children, but his wife thought that their
noise would trouble him, so she kept them very much in the nursery, and
when they came down to see papa, they were as still and quiet as so many
little mice. The professor was very absent and very short-sighted, and
often up in the clouds, as we say; but all the same he had a very tender
heart, and would have liked to see more of his children, only, somehow,
they never seemed to be there. One day he was walking up and down in
some public gardens belonging to the row of houses where he lived. He
very seldom went there, but to-day he had gone in, and by-and-by he saw
some children at play, and grew interested in them and talked kindly to
them, and even joined in their game. And when he went away he saw one
little girl looking up with a very sweet and half-wistful smile into his
face, and he bent down to kiss her, and said, ‘Well, my little darling,
whose little girl are you?’ and she cried out, ‘Yours, papa!’—and sure
enough it was his own little girls, as well as some others, with whom he
had been playing, and he had never known them in their hats and coats,
laughing and chatting as they never did at home. That was a funnier
thing than for people not to know little puppy dogs one from the other!”
“What a funny man!” cried Squib. “Didn’t he laugh when he found out?”
“I dare say he did, and perhaps after that he played more with his
children, and taught them not to be afraid of him. But when people are
absent and forgetful they do very funny things. I heard of an officer
once who rode into his stable-yard and called out angrily to his men, ‘I
can’t find my horse anywhere! What have you fellows done with him? Go
and bring him out to me at once!”
“And he was on his back all the time!” cried Squib with a hearty laugh
of delight. “Oh, I like that story; it’s better than the people who hunt
everywhere for their spectacles when they are on their noses all the
time! You must tell Seppi about that. I am sure it would make him laugh
too.”
Seppi’s face was beaming with pleasure by the time Herr Adler reached
the knoll. It was a very beautiful day of early summer. The air was so
clear and fresh that the heat of the sun was not overpowering, and
everything seemed full of joy and happiness. Squib did not know which
looked the most beautiful—the great white mountains towering into the
clear blue sky, or the dark-green pines with their ruddy stems, or the
green slopes where the goats browsed and frisked, or the glimpses of
tossing, foaming water dashing along below them in its rocky bed.
Everything was so beautiful, he thought; and it seemed more beautiful
than ever to-day because Herr Adler was there to see it too, and he
pointed out such a number of things that Squib had never noticed before,
and told such wonderful stories about the things that grew in the fields
and the creatures that lived in the woods, even about the rocks and the
stones, the ice and the snow, till Squib, drawing a long breath, would
exclaim,—
“O sir, how wonderful everything is! I wish I knew as much as you. It
makes everything so interesting.”
“You can know a very great deal more than I ever shall do, my little
friend, and yet feel only how very, very little you have learned. But
you are quite right. Everything in the world is full of
interest—wonderful interest. Everything can teach us new lessons.
Everything speaks to us a beautiful language, if we will only listen and
be willing to learn. But learning is often a slow and tedious process;
and sometimes we throw down our books with disgust, and say, ‘Oh, I
can’t be bothered with all this stupid stuff!’ and we turn to something
else to see if that will be more interesting. But that isn’t the spirit
in which to learn.”
Squib’s face had turned suddenly red.
“O sir” he said, “how did you know?”
At that question Herr Adler smiled; and Squib went on speaking quickly,
but with an honest wish to be truthful,—
“I do so often feel like that! I want to know lots of things; but it
does seem so slow and tiresome learning. Then I get tired and cross and
naughty; and sometimes I just bang down my books and run away out of
doors. I shan’t be able to do that when I go to school; but at home I
can sometimes, because some of my lessons I do quite alone, and there
isn’t always anybody in the room even.”
“I know that feeling very well,” answered Herr Adler. “I used to have it
too; and I should know a good deal more than I do now if I hadn’t given
way to it so often. But you take my advice, my little friend; and next
time things seem very dull, try to find out if they can’t be interesting
somehow. If it’s history, try to think that all these people were real
men and women once; try to put yourself in their places, and think how
you would have acted if you had been there. If it’s geography, just shut
your eyes and try to picture the places you have to learn about. Now
that you are a bit of a traveller, you should be able to do that. Think
of the sort of people who live there, and the animals, and the great
mountains and wonderful forests, or rivers, or deserts—or whatever it
is. Even if it’s only a hard sum, it can be interesting enough if you
will only make up your mind to do your very best with it. And as for
Latin and Greek, you must think of all the wonderful old books you will
be able to read when you have mastered them. Oh yes, everything can be
interesting, and is interesting really. It is our own fault if we cannot
find out where the interest lies.”
“I will try that when I get home!” cried Squib, who was always pleased
with a new idea; “and I shall try to remember you, sir, and all the
things you have told us. I shall say to myself, ‘What would Herr Adler
say if he saw you so idle?’ I think that will help.”
“You can think of something better than that, my little friend,” was
Herr Adler’s answer; and Squib looked quickly up into his eyes and did
not ask his meaning, for he seemed to see it written there, and his face
grew suddenly red.
“I’ll try,” he answered, in a tone that was almost a whisper; and Herr
Adler did not ask him what he meant, yet Squib felt sure he understood.
Seppi heard this talk a little wistfully. Somehow it seemed to him as if
his friends lived in such a different world from his own. For a moment
he felt isolated from them, almost ashamed of his humble poverty and
lowliness; and when at luncheon-time the food was brought out, he grew
shamefaced over the coarse fare which he produced from his wallet. It
did not seem fit to offer to his companions, and he began to make an
apology for it, as he had long ceased to do with Squib now.
Then Herr Adler helped himself to a piece of hard bread and cheese,
instead of taking any of Lisa’s cakes, saying smilingly,—
“This reminds me of my boyhood, when I and my brothers used to wander
about Silesia on foot, and make our money go as far as it would by
living with the peasants and eating their food. No; I like this, thank
you, my little friend. It revives so many pleasant memories.”
“But it isn’t fit for you,” objected Seppi. “It is such poor fare. It is
only fit for—”
“Now, if you don’t take care I shall serve you the same as an old friend
of mine served his wife,” said Herr Adler, with a smile, “and tell you
the same story as he told to us.”
The faces of both boys brightened instantly.
“Oh, please, tell us the story!” cried Squib. “I do so like your
stories, and you have so many of them.”
“Well,” answered Herr Adler, “I will tell you this one. It happened that
one evening, many years ago now, I was taking an evening walk with some
friends of mine; and towards dusk we found ourselves near to the house
of an old friend whom we had none of us seen for a long time. Although
it was late, we thought we would call in and see him, and he gave us a
very warm welcome. We sat round the stove for a time; and then he asked
us if we would stay and have supper with him, which we agreed to do.
Now, he was not a rich man, and he lived quite simply, as German people
often do, you know. But his wife bustled about and laid the table, and
gave us an excellent supper of good milk soup, and plenty of good bread
and butter. We were hungry after our walk, and enjoyed it all greatly;
but the hostess was not at all content at having nothing better to offer
us, and she kept telling us how sorry she was she had not known
beforehand of our visit that she might have had a better supper. We told
her we wanted nothing better, but she could not be satisfied; and at
last her husband looked up at her with a smile on his face, and said,—
“’Now wife, be content; say no more, else I tell our good friends here a
story.’
“At that she smiled too, and a different look came into her face; and
she answered in another tone,—
“’Nay, then, I will say no more;’ and she did not.
“But, then, of course, we were all very curious to hear the story, and
we pressed our host to tell it us. So when the supper was finished, and
we had gathered round the stove again with our pipes, he told us.
* * * * *
“Once upon a time there was a prince, and he went a-hunting in a great
forest near to his castle. Now this prince, like so many of the princes
in stories (and, perhaps, in real life too), was a rather self-willed
and self-confident young man, reckless in his ways, and bent on doing as
he chose. And it came to pass that upon this day he outrode all his
followers and nobles in pursuit of the quarry, and presently found
himself quite alone in the heart of the great forest. He blew his horn
again and again, but nobody came to his aid; and he did not know which
way to turn, nor even in what direction his castle lay. He was quite
lost. He was getting very tired too, and it was growing dusk. Also he
was extremely hungry, for he had not tasted food since the mid-day meal
in the forest, and now it was long past the hour when he generally
partook of a sumptuous repast.
“At last, as he was growing quite desperate—having wandered hither and
thither for over an hour, and the light beginning now to fade quite out
of the sky—he found a little track in the wood, and following it eagerly
in hopes of coming across some hut or habitation, he reached a little
clearing in which stood a charcoal-burner’s rude hut. But the hut itself
was empty, for the charcoal-burner was busy over his meiler a few yards
away—so busy that he never so much as observed the approach of the
prince.”
“What is a meiler?” asked Squib.
“I do not know whether there is an English word for it,” answered Herr
Adler. “It is a word that belongs to the charcoal-burner’s craft. You
know that charcoal is wood burned in such a way as to leave behind it
the charcoal fit for use; and the way in which this is done in the open
forests by the charcoal-burners is by making first a heap of wood, and
then covering it up with earth. The earth heaped over it keeps the fire
in check when the wood is burning. The charcoal-burner has to watch very
carefully, sometimes raking the earth away to let the fire burn more
freely, sometimes heaping more on to keep it in check; and the great
heap he makes of wood and earth is called a meiler.”
“I understand,” answered Squib. “Now, please, go on with the story.”
“Well, the prince looked about him, and seeing the old man a little away
off, he hailed him, and called out,—
“’Can you tell me the way out of the forest? I want to find the way to
the road which leads to the town. You know it, I suppose?’
“’Oh yes, I know it well enough,’ answered the old man, and began to try
to make the prince understand how to go. But he soon interrupted,
saying,—
“’My good fellow, how do you suppose for a moment that I could find such
an intricate path as that in the dark?’
“Then the charcoal-burner stroked his chin, and replied,—
“’Well, I was just thinking that maybe you would only lose yourself
worse by trying it.’
“Then the prince got rather vexed, and said impatiently,—
“’What’s the use of that, I should like to know? You must just come with
me, my good fellow, and show me the way yourself.’
“But at that the charcoal-burner broke into a gruff laugh.
“’_I_ go with you, indeed! _I_ leave my meiler to take care of itself
whilst I show you the way out of the forest! That’s a pretty thing to
ask! Why, sir, if I were to leave my meiler for a quarter of an hour as
she is now, the whole batch of charcoal would be spoiled. Why, I must
watch her half the night through, as a cat does a mouse. Leave my meiler
to show you the way out of the wood! No, my fine gentleman, that I can’t
do;’ and the old man laughed again at the notion.
“For a moment the prince was inclined to be angry, for he was not
accustomed to be spoken to in that free and easy way; but he reflected
that the man did not know him, and was quite right to do his work well
and conscientiously. So he checked the impatient words that rose to his
lips, and asked quietly,—
“’But, my good friend, if you cannot leave your meiler, pray, what am I
to do? I have no wish to get hopelessly lost in the forest, and,
perhaps, fall a prey to wild beasts.’
“’Well, sir, then why not stay here for a few hours, till the meiler has
cooled down, and I can go with you through the forest? I’ve a fine,
comfortable hut over yonder, and a bed fit for a prince, so soft and
warm. You can have it, and welcome, since I must watch by the meiler
till dawn. As for your horse, he will find plenty to eat if you turn him
loose. He will shift for himself well enough, never fear.’
“’Oh, the horse will do well enough; I’m not afraid for him,’ answered
the prince. ‘It’s of myself I am thinking. I am really starving; I’ve
had nothing to eat for hours. What am I to do for supper? Where can I
get something to eat?’
“’Oh, as for that, I’ll share my supper with you,’ answered the old man
readily. ‘You know the saying that tells us, “Where one can dine, two
can dine.”’
“’Well,’ said the prince, who had by this time got off his horse and
removed saddle and bridle, so that the animal could feed at will, ‘I
must needs accept your hospitality for the night, since there seems
nothing else to be done.’
“The charcoal-burner had gone back to his meiler, and was heaping on
earth here and there; but presently he came back again, and said
cheerfully,—
“’Come, sir, I will show you the hut—such a beautiful hut. Not a drop of
rain can find its way through the roof; and as for the bed, why, you
need never wish for a cleaner or softer one. I made it myself from dried
moss and fern and pine needles. A prince could not wish a better; and
for sleeping, there’s nothing like it. Why, I fall asleep almost as soon
as I lie down, whether by day or night. Come and see.’
“The prince followed him into the little dark hut, where he soon blew up
a few sparks of fire, and lighted some dry twigs, which blazed merrily.
The prince could see that the hut was clean, though so small and dark,
and the charcoal-burner pointed to the bed in the corner.
“’There, sir, you can make yourself comfortable there; and I’ll get the
supper as fast as I can.’
“The prince was so tired that he was glad enough to stretch his limbs
even on such a rude couch as that one; but he was too hungry to go to
sleep yet.
“’Make haste with that supper, my good friend,’ he kept saying. ‘I hope
you have something good to give me.’
“’Oh, excellent,’ answered the old man, who was dividing his attention
between his meiler and his guest, often darting out to the former, but
coming quickly back again to his hospitable cares; ‘good bread and
plenty of it, and the most excellent cheese. Why, it gives me an
appetite even to think of it! It is all so good. Drink, did you say,
sir? Why, to be sure. There is water in the brook—such fresh, sparkling
water! Why, no prince in his palace could have better. Oh, you shall sup
well, sir; never fear. Everything is of the very best.’
“The good man spoke with such hearty conviction that the prince could
not but smile. However, he was so hungry that he really found pleasure
in eating the coarse fare of the peasant, and was ready to agree with
him that the food was excellent. The spring water was clear and pure,
and the cup from which he drank, although only of earthenware, was quite
clean, though the prince could not but feel amused to think what his
knights and servants would think could they see him sharing the supper
and resting on the bed of the old charcoal-burner.
“But the peasant could not linger long; his meiler required his constant
presence. He slipped away, and the shadows fell in the hut. The prince
stretched himself upon his bed of moss and leaves, and was soon in a
sound, dreamless slumber.
“When he awoke the sun was up in the sky, and the charcoal-burner’s task
was for the present over. The meiler could now be left to cool down
unwatched, and the old man was at liberty to guide his guest through the
forest towards the town.
“So the horse was caught and saddled, and the prince mounted, whilst the
peasant walked beside him and showed him the way through the intricate
forest paths.
“’No wonder I lost my way!’ cried the prince, ‘it is a veritable
labyrinth!’
“Prince and charcoal-burner talked together in friendly fashion whilst
they journeyed on, and at last the old man paused, and pointed through
the trees towards something gleaming white before them.
“’That is the great road, sir; now you cannot lose yourself any more.
Turn to the left when you reach it, and it will take you straight to the
town. You will see the castle tower to guide you when you have gone a
little way. The prince lives there, as perhaps you know.’
“’Have you ever seen the prince?’ asked the traveller.
“’No, sir, never. They say he is a fine young gentleman, and often hunts
in the forest. I hear the horns sometimes, but I have never seen him.’
“’What do the people say of him? Does he do anything else but hunt in
the forest?’
“’Why, that’s more than I know, sir, having no concern with the affairs
of princes. I have my meiler to mind, and he has his country. If he’s a
wise prince, he will know better than to spend all his time a-hunting.
And now, sir, I will wish you good-day, and go back. I have my day’s
work to do in the forest.’
“But when the prince would have rewarded the man and paid him for his
hospitality, he drew back hurt, and would not accept a penny. He was no
innkeeper, he said. The gentleman was welcome to all he had had, and it
was plain that he would have been much pained had the prince insisted on
paying him.
“’Well then, my good friend,’ said the prince, ‘since you will not let
me pay you anything, you must come some day and sup with me at my house,
since I have supped at yours. That is fair enough; you cannot say nay to
that.’
“’Well, sir,’ answered the peasant, ‘if you will have it so, I will
come; but you must tell me where you live, else I shall not know where
to go when I get to the town.’
“’Oh, as for that, I will send a servant for you one of these days,’
answered the prince, ‘and he will show you the way.’
‘Well, and provided I have not my meiler to watch I will come with him,’
answered the charcoal-burner; and then he turned back into the forest
and went back to his hut (little knowing it was the prince he had
entertained) whilst the prince rode home to his castle, and turned up
safe and sound, to the great relief and satisfaction of his gentlemen.
“A few days later, as the charcoal-burner was sitting at the door of his
hut one fine evening, a grand servant rode up and told him he had orders
to fetch him to sup at his master’s house. The peasant knew then that
his guest had not forgotten his promise, and he made ready to go with
the man, brushing up his poor clothes as well as he could, and washing
away all the traces of his smutty toil off hands and face. Then he went
with the servant, and as they neared the town he saw many men wearing
the same livery walking about in the streets; and presently his guide
took him through a great gateway into the castle itself; and the
charcoal-burner stopped short in affright, and said,—
“’But I must not enter here! Surely this is the prince’s castle!’
“’Why, yes,’ answered his guide, ‘and it is the prince who has sent for
you to-day.’
“The old man was greatly astonished and rather troubled at this; but he
had to go on now, and followed his guide into a room which seemed to him
wonderfully large and beautiful, where a splendid banquet was laid out,
of which he was bidden freely to partake.
“When the different dishes—almost more than he could count—were placed
upon the table, the servants withdrew and left him to eat his supper in
peace alone. It was the most wonderful experience he had ever known. He
tasted the dishes one after the other, finding them all so good he could
not tell which was best. There were choice wines too, which he sipped as
he ate, and before very long he had made the very best meal he had ever
eaten in his life, and could really eat no more.
“Then the door at the end of the room opened, and in came his guest of a
few nights back. There was something about his dress and aspect which
assured the charcoal-burner that it really was the prince himself, and
he rose to his feet and made a respectful salutation, reassured by the
smile with which he was greeted.
“’Well, my good friend, and have you supped well?’
“’Oh, most excellently, your highness,’ he answered respectfully, ‘I
have supped like a prince,’
“’Why, so you do in your own hut, according to your own account!’
answered the prince smiling; and then he went up to the table and looked
at the dishes there, and his face grew dark and angry. He began finding
all manner of fault with first one thing and then the other. This dish
was too much cooked, another too little—nothing was done right. He had
something bad to say of every one. And so he went on decrying the good
food in a haughty and supercilious way, till he suddenly caught sight of
the charcoal-burner’s eyes fixed upon him with a look of terror.
“’Why, what _is_ the matter, my good friend,’ he asked. ‘You look as if
you had seen a ghost!’
“The old man looked nervously over his shoulder, though he tried to
regain his self-possession and to smile back. But his face was pallid,
and his hands shook nervously. The prince was very curious.
“’What is the matter?’ he asked.
“’Oh nothing, nothing, your highness. But with your highness’ permission
I will wish you good-evening and return home, giving my humble thanks
for this most excellent supper.’
“But the prince came and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
“’Nay, my friend,’ he said kindly, ‘but tell me first what is the
matter. When I came in, you were happy and at ease; but all in a moment
your face changed, and you have been trembling ever since. What was it
that you saw to frighten you? Tell me that.’
“Then the old man trembled more than ever and said,—
“’Nay, your highness, ask me not that; for if I tell you, you will be
angry and will cast me into prison, and I shall be undone.’
“’No, no,’ answered the prince quickly, ‘I will never do that. I give
you my word as a prince. Now fear not, but tell me all. No harm shall
come to you, I promise it!’
“’Your highness,’ said the old charcoal-burner with his eyes on the
floor, “it was like this. As you stood there, looking at all that good
food and calling it not fit to eat—food for pigs, and I wot not what
beside—I suddenly felt a cold wind pass over me that made me shiver from
head to foot; and when I looked up to see what it was, behold I saw a
terrible face looking over your highness’ shoulder, and it seemed to me
that it was the face of the devil himself!’
“When the prince heard that, he was quite silent for many minutes, and
stood like one who is thinking deeply. The charcoal-burner stood silent
and abashed, not daring to raise his eyes; but presently he felt the
prince lay a hand upon his shoulder and say to him in a kind voice,—
“’My friend, thou hast well spoken, and thou hast well seen. I will not
forget that vision. But shall I tell you something that I saw out in the
forest, when I sat at your table, and heard you praise your food and
call it good and excellent? Well, perhaps I did not see it as clearly as
I should, for mine eyes were holden, but I very well know that it was
there—a beautiful angel standing all the while beside thee, and I trow
that the name which he bears is called the Angel of Contentment.’”
* * * * *
Herr Adler paused, and the boys, who had both been listening with deep
attention, simultaneously drew a long breath. Seppi’s face was full of
earnest thought, which brought the colour into his cheeks; and it was
Squib who cried out eagerly,—
“Oh, thank you for telling us the story. Do you think it is true?”
“I think it teaches us a great truth, my dear children,” answered Herr
Adler kindly; and meeting the gaze of two earnest pairs of eyes, he
added, “I am quite sure, for one thing, that, when we speak slightingly
and disparagingly of the good things God has given us, and either from
vanity or discontent despise and make light of them, it is the devil or
one of his angels who puts such thoughts into our hearts. But when we
receive everything joyfully and thankfully, neither grumbling because
our share is small, nor coveting things beyond our reach because others
have them, then the spirit of contentment and happiness takes up its
abode in our hearts; and if that is not an angel from God—well, it is at
least something very like one!”
The smile on Herr Adler’s face was reflected upon that of the two
children; and Squib thought with loving admiration how little Seppi had
of this world’s goods, and yet how contented he was! Surely the Angel of
Contentment could not be very far away from him! But he did not say
this; it only came into his head. What he said was,—
“I wonder the old man didn’t know it was the prince. If he had really
lived so near his castle always, wouldn’t he have seen him sometimes?”
Then Herr Adler laughed, and answered,—
“It does not quite follow, as I can show you by another tale, which I
believe to be quite true. It happened to the King of Prussia, the
great-grandfather of the present emperor. He was walking one day in the
outer park surrounding the castle where he was then living, and he was
wearing his undress uniform, so that there was nothing to distinguish
him from quite an ordinary soldier. As he drew near to the gateway he
saw a little boy with a donkey, and the little boy called out to him and
beckoned him to come. Very much amused, the king approached, and the
little boy said, ‘Look here, I want you to hold my donkey. I’ve got a
letter which I must leave at the castle, and I may not take my donkey
inside the gate. But if you will take care of him till I get back you
shall not be the loser. I’ll give you something for your trouble when I
get back!’ So the king took the donkey by the bridle and held him whilst
the little boy ran up to the castle and delivered his letter. Then when
the little fellow had come back, he pulled out a little silver halfpenny
(such as they had in Germany then) and gave it to the king, saying,
‘There, my good friend, that’s for your trouble, and thank you!’ and
then he got on his donkey and rode off. But the king kept the silver
halfpenny and took it home with him, and when he reached his wife’s room
he went in and held it out on the palm of his hand, and said—’See there,
wife; there is the first money that thy husband has ever earned by the
work of his own hands!’”
Both boys laughed merrily at this story, and forgot the grave thoughts
which had gone before. But they did not forget to think of Herr Adler’s
words many times during the days that flew so happily by. Seppi never
blushed nor made excuse for the poor or coarse fare he brought with him,
and Squib would eat it as readily and with as good an appetite as Lisa’s
cakes, thinking of the prince in the wood, and how he found all so good
when it was seasoned by a good appetite. He and Seppi would play at the
prince and the charcoal-burner, and numbers of other games suggested by
Herr Adler’s tales; and he came often to see them in their favourite
valley, and Squib declared that he was sure the sun shone brighter and
the flowers came out better and faster on the days Herr Adler came.
“He’s the most splendid man for stories that ever was!” he cried in
great admiration one day; “but I feel that, if I had as many stories in
my head as he has, it would just burst!”