or, The Silver Skates $3
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“Yes, child, often. But the father only laughs; or he
stares at me so strange, I am glad to ask no more. When
you and Gretel had the fever last winter, and our bread was
nearly gone, and I could earn nothing, for fear you would die
while my face was turned, oh, I tried then! I smoothed his
hair, and whispered to him soft as a kitten, about the money,
— where it was, who had it? Alack! he would pick at my
sleeve, and whisper gibberish till my blood ran cold. At last,
while Gretel lay whiter than snow, and you were raving on the
bed, I screamed to him, — it seemed as if he must hear me, —
‘Raff, where is our money? Do you know aught of the
money, Raff? —the money in the pouch and the stocking, in
the big chest?’ But I might as well have talked to a stone:
I might as —”

The mother’s voice sounded so strangely, and her eye was
so bright, that Hans, with a new anxiety, laid his hand upon
her shoulder.

“Come, mother,” he said, “let us try to forget this money.
I am big and strong: Gretel, too, is very quick and willing.
Soon all will be prosperous with us again. Why, mother!
Gretel and I would rather see thee bright and happy than to
have all the silver in the world. Wouldn’t we, Gretel?”

“‘'The mother knows it,” said Gretel, sobbing.