little valley. A neatly carved balcony surrounded the house, the window-panes gleamed like mirrors, and the orderly arrangements of the farm-yard showed the owner to be a man of some wealth.

At the table in the oak-panelled sitting-room sat the rich farmer himself, but in spite of his possessions he seemed discontented and unhappy, for between his brows was a deep frown, and his eyes were dark and lowering. Opposite him sat his beautiful young wife, whose soft eyes looked anxiously into her husband's face. On her lap she held her only child, a lovely little girl, with eyes as blue as the flax blossom, and hair that shone like gold: she folded her little hands, as her mother did, as long as the vesper bell continued to call to prayer; but her eyes looked longingly, now on the pancakes that lay piled on the bright pewter plate, now casting a friendly glance on the boy that sat at the furthest end of the table, with his hands folded in devout reverence.It was Hans, the son of a poor relation, to whom the rich farmer, with unwonted generosity, had granted a place in his house and at his table, and who in return had to drive the goats every day up to the highest pastures on the mountain, to places inaccessible to other herds. He had just returned with his nimble charge, and had brought to little Anneli on her mother's knee a bunch of alproses, for he dearly loved the child.

The bell had ceased ringing, the hands were unclasped, and the mother began to help the delicate pancakes. There was a gentle knocking at the door, and in walked a little man in a sombre and threadbare garment. His back was bent, either with the weight of years or by the wallet which hung from his shoulder; his hair was silver grey; but the dark shining eyes told that in this decrepit body lived a strong unconquered spirit.

"Good evening, sir," said the little man humbly; "might I beg you for a bit of supper, for I am starving, and for a night's rest on your haystack, for I am tired to death."

"Indeed," said the farmer angrily; "do you take my house for a beggar's tavern? if so, I am sorry your sight is so bad. You may seek elsewhere, for you will not find what you want here!"

The dwarf looked in astonishment on the master of the house, who, regardless of the hospitable customs of the country, could thus turn a poor man away from his door; but the farmer took no notice of his surprise, nor of his wife's looks of entreaty.

"No, wife," he said harshly, "this time you shall not have your own way. I will not 

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