“No, that’s not what I mean:  The wood that you chop makes you warm without your burning it.”  And pausing by the hedge, she asked again: 

“On a stick he has his head, And his jacket it is red, And filled with stone is he—­Now who may he be?”

The boy bethought himself very gravely, and cried “Stop!  You mustn’t tell me what it is!—­Why, its a hip!”

The girl nodded assentingly, and made a face as if this were the first time she had ever given him the riddle to guess; as a matter of fact, however, she had given it to him very often, and had used it many times to cheer him up.

The sun had dispersed the mist, and the little valley stood in glittering sheen, as the children turned away to the pond to skim flat stones on the water.  As they passed the house the girl pressed the latch once more; but again the door did not open, nor was anything to be seen at the window.  And now the children played merrily beside the pond, and the girl seemed quite content that her brother should be the more clever at the sport, and that he should boast of it and grow quite excited over it; indeed, she manifestly tried to be less clever at it, than she really was, for the stones she threw almost always plumped down to the bottom as soon as they struck the water—­for which she got properly laughed at by her companion.  In the excitement of the sport the children quite forgot where they were and why they had come there—­and yet it was a strange and sorrowful occasion.

In the house, which was now so tightly locked up, there had lived, but a short time before, one Josenhans, with his wife and their two children, Amrei (Anna Marie) and Damie (Damien).  The father was a woodcutter in the forest, and was, moreover, an adept at various kinds of work; the house, which was in a dilapidated state when he bought it, he had himself repaired and reroofed, and in the autumn he was going to whitewash it inside—­the lime was already lying prepared in the trench, covered with withered branches.  His wife was one of the best day-laboring women in the village—­ready for anything, day and night, in weal and in woe; for she had trained her children, especially Amrei, to manage for themselves at an early age.  Industry and frugal contentment made the house one of the happiest in the village.  Then came a deadly sickness which snatched away the mother, and the following evening, the father; and a few days later two coffins were carried away from the little house.  The children had been taken immediately into the next house, to “Coaly Mathew,” and they did not know of their parents’ death until they were dressed in their Sunday clothes to follow the bodies.

Josenhans and his wife had no near relations in the place, but there was, nevertheless, loud weeping heard, and much mournful praise of the dead couple.  The village magistrate walked with one of the children at each hand behind the two coffins.  Even at the grave the children were quiet and unconscious, indeed, almost cheerful, though they often asked for their father and mother.  They dined at the magistrate’s house, and everybody was exceedingly kind to them; and when they got up from the table, each one received a parcel of cakes to take away.