ight to the Roettmaennin.

"We never speak of such a person here," said Schilder-David, giving a
significant glance at Leegart and then at Joseph.

They all rose from table. Joseph's measure was taken for his jacket,
and then the outlines drawn with white chalk on the green cloth, and
Leegart's huge shears cut out the cloth on the table with a strange
snapping sound.

"Stay at home to-day--the mill-stream is frozen over," said David to
Joseph, and went into his work-shop, which was partitioned off a loft
above the saw-mill. There was here a turning lathe with a strap
attached to a cylinder, and this was fastened to the spring-wheel of
the mill below; and the water power that impelled the large machine
turned also the smaller one, at which David constructed his wooden
watch dials and clock cases.

Little Joseph was standing apart, as if in disgrace, when his
grandfather, contrary to his usual custom, went out alone. Usually he
took Joseph with him; and the boy supplied his furnace with chips, and
brought him rough pieces of wood for his work, taking away those that
were finished and arranging them in good order. His mother took the boy
with her into the kitchen, and there she asked him, "Joseph, what ails
you to-day? Why did you exclaim so uncivilly, 'Woe's me, Leegart!'? she
is so kind to you, and your godmother besides, and is making you a
pretty new jacket."

Not a word from Joseph.

A child can scarcely remember what he said a few minutes previously,
and can never recall the train of his ideas, and consequently cannot
explain them. The words of children are like the songs of birds, devoid
of rhythm, and yet emanating from a hidden life within.

After a pause, Joseph began of his own accord to say, "Mother, is not
my father to be here to-day? You told me so."

"Yes, he will be here. He is sure to come, I think," answered Martina,
with a deep sigh. Now she understood why Joseph had been so
disappointed on seeing Leegart. No doubt, when she threw open the door,
Joseph expected to see his father; so he had called out, "Woe's me,
Leegart!" simply because it was another person, and not his father.
Joseph went on talking, and saying he knew his father would take him on
his horse, and probably give him one of his own.

Martina anxiously endeavoured to divert the child's thoughts from his
father, but she could not succeed. In the depression of her heart, she
had too often made Adam a topic of conversation, and had