The man and his wife cast searching glances at the carts, and apparently found all things in order. They then approached a cart upon which seats had been reserved for them; and the woman set down the child upon the ground, the better, as it seemed, to take leave of the sympathising groups that stood around. She and her husband went first to the neighbours, then to the servants, and shook hands with every one. Not a word was spoken. Whilst this farewell scene occurred, the little girl ran to a flock of chickens, which were pecking for food in the yard. A snow-white hen, with a tuft upon its head, came tamely to meet her. She took it up in her little arms, caressed and played with it. Suddenly a thought came into the boy's head: he went up to his mother, who had just concluded her sorrowful leave-taking. "Are we going away for good, mother?" he said. "Yes, my child, never to return." "Shall we not take my foal and calf? You promised me this morning that I should rear them." "I did promise you, my child, but they no longer belong to us." The firm character of the mother already manifested itself in the son. With scarcely a change of countenance. "Mother," he said, "will they remain on the farm?" "They will remain here." He ran to the farm-servants, and begged them to take care of his calf and foal, and let them want for nothing. Then he returned contentedly to his mother's side. For the poor woman, however, yet another trial was in store. "I take my white chicken with me, mother!" cried the little girl, pressing the pretty bird to her bosom. "Does the fowl also belong to the inventory?" said the woman to the lawyer, who stood near her amongst the peasants. "But, Mrs Oberhage, such a trifle!" "Does the chicken belong to the inventory?" "Yes." "Child, we must leave the chicken here. I will give you another." "I won't leave my chicken; I take my white chicken with me." The child was crying. The little fat judge, observant of the incident, rose from his seat. "Mrs Oberhage, let the child have the chicken. With the permission of the _Herr Regierungsrath_ I make you a present of it." The child jumped for joy, and the chicken remained perched upon her little hands. For a moment there was a struggle in the breast of the farmer's wife. She looked at her joyous child, she gazed around her at the house and farm she was about to quit; then, with sudden resolution, she went to the little girl, took the bird from her arms, and let it run away. "Judge," she said, turning to the magistrate, "sorry as I am for the poor child's sake, I nevertheless can accept nothing, as a gift, from you and the counsellor." But she could hardly complete the sentence. The resolute woman's strength seemed suddenly broken, and hot tears gushed from her eyes. Snatching up the weeping child, she pressed it to her breast, and hid her agitated countenance in its rich golden curls. * * * * *