now? Why, I wouldn't
let my dogs be out on such a night as this."

"Your dogs, no!" said the goblin; "I spoke of meaner animals--your
wretched tenants. Did you not order, yesterday, that Wilhelm and
Friedrich, if they did not pay their rent to-morrow, should be turned
out to sleep on the snow? A snug bed for the little ones, and a nice
white coverlet, eh? Ha! ha! twenty florins or so is no great matter, is
it? I'm afraid their chance is small; nevertheless, come and see."

The baron hung his head. A few minutes brought him to the first of the
poor dwellings, which they entered noiselessly. The fireless grate, the
carpetless floor, the broken window-panes, all gave sufficient testimony
to the want and misery of the occupants. In one corner lay sleeping a
man, a woman, and three children, and nestling to each other for the
warmth which their ragged coverlet could afford. In the man, the baron
recognized his tenant Wilhelm, one of those who had been with him to beg
for indulgence on the previous day.

The keen features, and bones almost starting through the pallid skin,
showed how heavily the hand of hunger had been laid upon all.

The cold night wind moaned and whistled through the many flaws in the
ill-glazed, ill-thatched tenement, and rustled over the sleepers, who
shivered even in their sleep.

"Ha, baron!" said the goblin, "death is breathing in their faces even
now, you see; it is hardly worth while to lay them to sleep in the snow,
is it? They would sleep a little sounder, that's all."

The baron shuddered, and then, hastily pulling the warm coat from his
own shoulders, he spread it over the sleepers.

"Oho!" said the goblin; "bravely done, baron! By all means keep them
warm to-night; they enjoy the snow more to-morrow, you know."

Strange to say, the baron, instead of feeling chilled when he had
removed his coat, felt a strange glow of warmth spread from the region
of the heart over his entire frame. The goblin's continual allusions to
his former intention, which he had by this time totally relinquished,
hurt him, and he said, rather pathetically,--

"Don't talk of that again, good goblin. I'd rather sleep on the snow
myself."

"Eh! what?" said the goblin; "you don't mean to say you're sorry? Then
what do you say to making these poor people comfortable?"

"With all my heart," said the baron, "if we had only anything to do it
with."

"You leave that to me," said the goblin. "Your brother fairies are n