“And thou, little fellow!--what art doing here?” “Waiting,” sighed Fritz, heavily--“waiting!” “Ah, to sell thy bird?” said the old man;--“come, I’ll buy him from thee. He might easily meet a richer, but he’ll not find a kinder master. What wilt have?--twelve kreutzers, isn’t it?” “I cannot sell him,” sobbed Fritz; “I have promised him never to do that.” “Silly child!” said the Bauer, laughing; “thy bird cares little for all thy promises: besides, he’ll have a better life with me than thee.” “That might he, easily!” said Fritz: “but I’ll not break my word.” “And what is this wonderful promise thou’st made, my little man?--come, tell it!” “I told him,” said Fritz, in a voice broken with agitation, “that if the shadow closed over the street down there before any one had hired me, that I would open his cage and let him free; and look! it is nearly across now--there’s only one little glimpse of sunlight remaining!” Poor child! how many in this world live upon one single gleam of hope--ay, and even cling to it when a mere twilight, fast fading before them! The Bauer was silent for some minutes; his look wandered from the child to the cage, and back again from the cage to the child. At last he stooped down and peeped in at the bird, which, with a sense of being in disgrace, sat with his head beneath his wing. “Come, my little man,” said he, laying a hand on Fritz’s shoulder, “I’ll take thee home with me! ‘Tis true I have no cattle--nothing save a few goats--but thou shalt herd these. Pack up thy bird, and let us away, for we have a long journey before us, and must do part of it before we sleep.” Fritz’s heart bounded with joy and gratitude. It would have been, in good truth, no very splendid prospect for any other to be a goatherd to a poor Bauer--so poor that he had not even one cow; but little Fritz was an orphan, without a home, a friend, or one to give him shelter for a single night. It may be believed, then, that he felt overjoyed; and it was with a light heart he trotted along beside the old Bauer, who never could hear enough about the starling--where he came from? how he was caught? who taught him to speak? what he liked best to feed upon? and a hundred other questions, which, after all, should have been far more numerous ere Fritz found it any fatigue to answer them. Not only did it give him pleasure to speak of Jacob, but now he felt actually grateful to him, since, had the old Bauer not taken a fancy to the bird, it was more than likely he had never hired its master.