"Oh, you poor children!" cried the woman, clasping her hands. "I should have known you, my girl, for your mother, when she went to school with me, looked just as you do--we were good companions; and your father served my cousin, Farmer Rodel. I know all about you. But tell me, Amrei, why have you no shoes on? You might take cold in such weather as this! Tell Marianne that Dame Landfried of Hochdorf told you to say, it is not right of her to let you run about like this! But no--you needn't say anything--I will speak to her myself. But, Amrei, you are a big girl now, and must be sensible and look out for yourself. Just think--what would your mother say, if she knew that you were running about barefoot at this season of the year?" The child looked at the speaker with wide-open eyes, as if to say: "Doesn't my mother know anything about it?" But the woman continued: "That's the worst of it, that you poor children cannot know what virtuous parents you had, and therefore older people must tell you. Remember that you will give real, true happiness to your parents, when they hear, yonder in heaven, how the people down here on earth are saying 'The Josenhans children are models of all goodness--one can see in them the blessing of honest parents.'" The tears poured down the woman's cheeks as she spoke these last words. The feeling of grief in her soul, arising from quite another cause, burst out irresistibly at these words and thoughts; there was sorrow for herself mingled with pity for others. She laid her hand upon the head of the girl, who, when she saw the woman weeping, also began to weep bitterly; she very likely felt that this was a good soul inclining toward her, and a dawning consciousness began to steal over her that she had really lost her parents. Suddenly the woman's face seemed irradiated. She raised her still tearful eyes to heaven, and said: "Gracious God, Thou givest me the thought." Then, turning to the child, she went on: "Listen--I will take you with me. My Lisbeth was just your age when she was taken from me. Tell me, will you go with me to Allgau and live with me?" "Yes," replied Amrei, decidedly. Then she felt herself nudged and seized from behind. "You must not!" cried Damie, throwing his arms around her--and he was trembling all over. "Be still," said Amrei, to soothe him. "The kind woman will take you too. Damie is to go with us, is he not?" "No, child, that cannot be--I have boys enough." "Then I'll not go either," said Amrei, and she took Damie by the hand.