Jacob was astounded that his father should not have recognised him either, so he answered: “Have you no son whom you could train to help you?” “I had one, Jacob by name; he should be a tall, well-grown youth by now, who would have been able to be my right hand, for even as a little fellow he was handy and clever at my trade. He was so handsome too, and had such pleasant manners, that he would no doubt have brought me more customers; very likely by this time I might have given up cobbling shoes and have made new ones instead. But alas! such is life!” “Where is your son then?” enquired Jacob with trembling voice. “No one can tell,” replied the old man, “for seven years ago he was stolen from us.” “Seven years ago,” cried Jacob in horrorstricken tones. “Yes, little gentleman, seven long years ago. I remember it as though it were yesterday. My wife came home from the market weeping and wringing her hands, the child had been absent all day, and though she had searched for him everywhere she had not been able to find him. I had warned her many a time to keep a careful eye upon our pretty boy, telling her there were bad folks in the town who might steal him for the sake of his good looks. But she was proud of him, and often, when the gentry bought fruit and vegetables of her, she sent him to carry home their purchases. “But one day an ugly old woman came into the market and began to bargain with her. In the end she bought more than she could carry, and my wife, being a kind-hearted woman, let her take the boy with her, and--from that hour to this he has never been seen again.” “And that was seven years ago?” asked Jacob. “Seven years, alas! We sought him high and low, and our neighbours, who had all known and loved the dear little fellow, helped in the search; but without avail. Neither could we hear any news of the old woman who had taken him away. No one seemed to know anything about her except one old woman who was over ninety years of age, and she said she must be the wicked Fairy Herbina, who visited the town once every fifty years to buy things she required.” Thus spoke Jacob’s father, as he hammered away at his shoe and drew the thread backwards and forwards busily, and the poor little fellow began to understand at last what had happened to him. It had been no dream, but, transformed into a squirrel, he had really served the wicked fairy for seven years. His heart was well-nigh ready to burst with rage and grief. Seven years of his youth had been stolen from him and what had he received in return? He had learnt to polish cocoa-nut shoes and glass floors. Also he had learnt all the secrets of the art of cookery from the old woman’s guinea-pigs! He stood so long considering what had been said, that his father asked him at length: “Can I do anything for you, sir? Do you require a pair of shoes, or,” he added with a smile, “perhaps a covering for your nose would be useful to you.”