well,
my child, and appears to agree with you--you are as fresh as a rose of
the morning. Well; what have you brought me?"

The little girl took from her apron, which she held up, a china cup,
broken into two pieces--"I only wished to ask you," said she, in a sad
voice, "if you can mend this cup so that the crack will not be seen."

Teuzer examined the pieces attentively, they were of fine china, and
ornamented with painted flowers. "So that one must not see the crack,"
he repeated, "it will be difficult--but we will try." So saying, he laid
the pieces on one side, and returned to his work. But the little girl,
looking much disappointed, said, "Ah, sir, have the kindness to mend the
cup immediately, I will wait until it is done."

The potter and his workmen began to laugh; "then," said the former, "you
will have long enough to wait, for after being cemented, the cup must be
baked. It will be three days before I heat the furnace again, and it
will be five before you can have your cup."

The child looked disappointed, and Teuzer continued, "Ah, I see why you
are up so early--your mother does not know that you have broken the cup,
and you wanted to have it mended before she is awake. I am right I
see--go then and tell your mother the exact truth--that will be best,
will it not?"

The little girl said "Yes," in a low voice, and went away.

Very early on the following morning the child returned.

"I told you," said Teuzer, frowning, "that you could not have your cup
for five days."

"It is not for that I have come," replied the child, "but I have brought
you something else to mend,"--and she took from her apron the pieces of
a brown jar.

Teuzer laughed again, and said, "We can do nothing with this--you think
it is china because it is glazed, but it is from the Waldenburg pottery,
and quite a different clay from ours. It would be a fine thing indeed if
we could mend all the broken jars in Dresden, we should then be soon
obliged to shut up shop, and eat dry bread--throw away the pieces,
child."

The little girl turned pale, "The jar is not ours," she said, crying,
"it belongs to Mrs. Abendroth, who sent us some broth."

"I am sorry for it," replied Teuzer, "but you must be more careful in
using other people's things."

"It was not my fault," said the child--"my poor mother has the
rheumatism in her hands, and cannot hold anything firmly--and she let it
fall. Have you jars of this kind, and how much would one of