So he came to the rich man and asked him: “Brother, help me in my sorrow, for my wife and children sit at home without any bread and are starving.” “If you will work for me this week I will help you.” What was the poor fellow to do? He set to work, cleaned out the courtyard, groomed the horses, carried the water, hewed the wood. When the week had gone by the rich man gave him a loaf of bread. “There, you have a reward for your pains.” “I thank you for it,” said the poor man, and bowed down, and was going home. “Stay,” the rich brother said to him: “Come with your wife to-morrow and be my guests. To-morrow is my name-day.” “Oh, brother, how can I? As you know, merchants who wear boots and furs come to see you, whilst I have only bast shoes, and I only have my grey coat.” “Never mind! Come to-morrow; I shall still have room for you.” “Good brother! I will come.” So the poor man went home, gave his wife the loaf of bread, and said: “Listen, wife. To-morrow you and I are to be guests.” “Who has asked us?” “My brother. To-morrow is his name-day.” “All right, let’s go.” Next day they got up and went into the town. They came to the rich man’s door, greeted him, and sat down on a bench. And at table there were many guests, and the master of the house entertained them all magnificently. Only he forgot the poor brother and his wife, and he gave them nothing. They sat there, and could only look at the others eating and drinking. When the meal was over the guests rose from table and bowed their thanks to the master and mistress, and the poor man also stood up from his bench and bowed down deep before his brother; and the guests went home drunken and merry, noisily singing songs. But the poor man went home with an empty stomach. “We too must sing a song!” he said to his wife. “Oh, you fool, the others sing, for they have had a good dinner and have drunk well. Why should we sing?” “Well, after all, I was a guest at my brother’s name-day, and I am ashamed of going back so silently. If I sing they will all think, anyhow, that I have been served as well.” “Sing if you will! I shall not!” So the peasant sang and sang, and he heard two voices. So he stopped and asked his wife: “Are you helping me; to sing with a thin voice?” “What are you thinking of? I was doing nothing of the sort.” “What was it, then?” “I don’t know,” said the wife. “Sing. I will listen.” So he went on singing by himself, and again the two voices were heard. So he stayed still, and said, “Sorrow, are you aiding me to sing?” And Sorrow answered: “Yes, I am aiding you.” “Now, Sorrow, we will go on together.” “Yes, I will ever remain with you.” So the peasant went home. But Sorrow called him into the inn. He said: “I have no money.” “Never mind, Hodge; what do you want money for? Why, you still have half of a fur; what is the use of it? It will soon be summer, and you will be no longer requiring it. We will go into the inn and drink it up.”