But Martina did not hear her father's lamentations, for she had rushed out of the house long since; David's neckcloth felt too tight, and he snatched it off, his face looking quite distorted, for he wished to suppress his tears, and yet could not. Suddenly he thought to himself, "Joseph must be in the church!" he hurried to the church, the door of which was open, as they were preparing it for midnight service. The schoolmaster was walking about alone, with a single candle, and placing quantities of lights on the altar. "Joseph! Joseph! are you here?" cried David, on the threshold of the church; the sound vibrated loudly. The candle fell out of the schoolmaster's hand, and he answered, trembling, "There is no one here but myself--what is the matter?" "You allowed the children to give him the nickname of 'The Foal,' so it is your fault that he is gone off, and is nowhere to be found," cried David, and hurried away. The schoolmaster was as much in the dark about this reproach, as he now was in the church, where, after much groping about, he at last found the wax taper. The whole village collected together, and even the stocking weaver came with his French horn, which, however, he quickly put under his old military cloak, to prevent its getting wet. "I will blow the horn all through the village," said he, "and then he will come." "No!" said one. "The old Roettmaennin has no doubt caused him to be stolen, hoping to force you, Martina, to give up Adam, for this very afternoon he was betrothed to the Forest Miller's Tony; one of the miller's men was here, and told us all about it." "Don't drive me out of my senses," cried Martina. "Joseph! Joseph! come! oh, come! your mother is calling you!" While they were still standing clustered together, a strange looking little man was seen coming up the valley, hung all round and round with huge bundles protruding on every side. It was the hatter from the next town, bringing for the holidays, a collection of newly dressed three-cornered hats into the village. "What is going on here?" asked the little man. "We are looking for a child--Joseph--he has disappeared." "How old is the child?" "Six years old." "I met a fine boy with a rosy face, and fair curly hair." "Yes, yes, that must have been Joseph; for God's sake tell me where he is," said Martina, rushing up to the man so eagerly, that all his hats tumbled down into the snow.