Christmas in Austria; or, Fritzl's friends

or Fritzl’s Friends
BY FRANCES BARTLETT
ILLUSTRATED BY BERTHA D. HOXIE
BOSTON
DANA ESTES & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1910 By Dana Estes & Company
All rights reserved
CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRIA
Electrotyped and Printed by THE COLONIAL PRESS C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
On the snow covered stones of the Stephansplatz of Vienna, Fritzl and Tzandi danced joyously. The boy Fritzl because it was Christmas Eve. Because also in the rapid motion his little body forgot how poorly it was clad. While Tzandi, the terrier of “Schottisch” or Scottish ancestry, danced because anything his small master did was pleasing in his sight, and to be copied, if possible. Under Fritzl’s chin was tucked a violin; and as the boy danced he played snatches of melody: bits of Hungarian folk songs, and bars of the waltzes the Viennese love, which set the feet of the passers-by moving more swiftly. But not one kreutzer had been slipped into the boy’s hand, although it was Christmas Eve.
Now Fritzl and Tzandi had no home. For only that Christmas Eve, the cross old woman, of whose cellar they had made a pitiful refuge, had warned them of what they might expect, if they came within her house again. Indeed, neither Fritzl nor Tzandi could remember any home save the cellar, and before that, the attic where they had lived with the blind musician, who, dying, had left his cherished violin to the little boy, whose heart and fingers were overflowing with music. “I tell you what, Tzandi,” cried Fritzl, as toward midnight boy and dog sought shelter in one doorway after another of the Stephansplatz, only to be driven forth: “There’s a lovely corner by the Riesenthor! I forgot all about it till now. Let’s go there, it’s the very place! ’Course Santa Claus will go through that very door into the cathedral, and can hear us when we tell him we’re waiting for him. Why, just as easy, Tzandi!”