He felt frightened and nervous when at length he reached the market-place, for his mother looked so altered. He felt sure he could not have slept very long, for she had still a quantity of fruit and vegetables unsold, but she sat with her head leaning on her hand, never calling out to the passers-by to buy her wares. She was paler too, and looked very sad. He hesitated as to what he should do, but at length he took heart and crept up behind her and, laying his hand caressingly upon her arm, said: “Mother dear, what ails you? Are you angry with me?” She turned to look at him, but started back with a cry of horror. “What do you want with me, you hideous dwarf,” she cried. “Such jokes are out of place.” “But, Mother,” said Jacob in alarm, “you cannot be well. Why do you drive your son away?” “Have I not told you to go away,” said Hannah angrily, “you will get nothing from me by such jokes, you ugly creature.” “She must be out of her mind,” said the little one, “however shall I get her back home? Mother dear, look well at me, I am your own little son Jacob.” “Now you have gone too far with your impertinence,” cried the woman. “Not content, you hideous dwarf, with standing there and frightening my customers away, you must needs make game of my grief and sorrow. Neighbours, listen to this fellow, who dares to say he is my son Jacob.” Her neighbours all came crowding round her and began to abuse poor Jacob in no measured terms, telling him it was cruel to joke with a poor bereaved mother who had had her lovely boy stolen away seven long years ago, and they threatened to tear him limb from limb if he did not go away at once. [Illustration: _“Good gracious me, what is that?”_ (P. 124.)] Poor Jacob knew not what to make of it all. He had gone that morning with his mother to the market-place, or so he believed, had helped her set out her wares of fruit and vegetables, had carried home the old woman’s cabbages, taken a little soup and fallen asleep for a short time, and yet his mother and the neighbours declared he had been absent seven years. And they called him a horrible dwarf! What could have taken place? When he saw that his mother would have nothing to do with him the tears came into his eyes, and he turned sadly away and went up the street towards the little shop where his father sat and mended shoes during the daytime. “I will see if he will recognise me,” he said to himself. “I will just stand in the doorway and speak to him.” When he reached the cobbler’s shop he stood in the doorway and looked in. The old man was so busy that he did not notice him at first, but presently, on looking up, he dropped the shoe he was mending and cried out: “Good gracious me, what is that?” “Good evening, master,” said the little man, as he entered the shop, “how is trade just now?” “Bad, very bad, little gentleman,” said the cobbler, “I cannot work as well as I did, I am getting old and I have no one to help me, for I cannot afford an assistant.”