The cobbler’s wife was much put out to see her rare herbs handled in this way, but she did not like to say anything, for it was the customer’s right to examine the goods, and besides she was half afraid of the old woman. When the whole of the basket of herbs had been handled and turned over the old woman muttered--“Rubbish, rubbish, the whole lot of it. Fifty years ago I could have bought what I wanted; this is good for nothing.” These words angered little Jacob. “You are a rude old woman,” he said angrily; “first you take up our beautiful fresh herbs in your nasty brown fingers and crush them, then you put them to your long, hooked nose, so that nobody else who had seen you, would want to buy them, and then you miscall our wares, as bad stuff and rubbish, when even the Duke’s cook does not disdain to buy from us.” The old woman looked fixedly at the spirited lad and laughed in a repulsive manner. Then said she, in a hoarse croaking voice, “Ah, my little man, do you like my nose, my nice long nose? Then you shall have a nice long nose too, one that shall reach from the middle of your face right down below your chin.” As she talked she shuffled along to the other basket in which the cabbages were placed. She took the finest creamy crisp heads and crushed them in her hands until they creaked and cracked, then threw them back into the basket anyhow. “Bad goods, bad cabbages,” she said. “Don’t shake your head to and fro like that,” cried the little boy, beginning to feel frightened. “Your neck is as thin as a cabbage stalk and looks as though it might snap in two, and if your head rolled off into our cabbage basket, who would buy from us then?” “So you don’t like thin necks, eh?” muttered the old woman. “Very well, then, you shall have none at all. Your head shall stick close down to your shoulders so that there will be no danger of its falling off your little body.” “Come, come, don’t talk such rubbish to the child,” said the cobbler’s wife, vexed at length, “if you wish to buy anything make your choice for you are frightening other customers away.” “Very well,” answered the old woman grimly, “I will buy these six cabbages. But you must let your little son carry them home for me, for I have to support myself on my stick and can carry nothing myself. I will reward him for his trouble.” The little boy did not want to go and began to cry, for he was afraid of the ugly old woman, but his mother bade him go quite sternly, she would have been ashamed to let the weakly old creature carry such a heavy burden, so he put the cabbages in a cloth and followed the old woman from the market-place. She walked so slowly that it was about three-quarters of an hour before they reached her home, which was in a very out-of-the-way part of the town, and which was a miserable-looking little house. The old woman drew a rusty key from her pocket and slipped it into the keyhole, and the door sprang open.