"Hannes!—Lenora!—Franz!" cries she, quite in a rage: and then pausing, as if spent,—"Why doesn't somebody answer? They've all gone away and left me, I do believe! Here's a condition to be in! Suppose now my clothes had caught fire, or the French were to come, or a wolf, or an evil spirit—precious help I should have! This is the way we old folks are treated, as soon as ever we can't slave for other people any longer. Hallo! some of you! Am I to split my throat? You'll come home and find me dead some of these days. Dear me! they won't mind; it's no use spending my breath. The village is asleep or dead, I think; I can hear a crow caw a mile off!"
When the peevish old woman became quite quiet, she heard a footstep slowly approaching her; and presently a man lounged up to her.
"Why, Franz, that must be you!" cried she; "I know your step, you always drag your feet along the ground so."
"So would anybody's feet," said Franz, "if they were as tired as I am."
"Why, what has tired you?—lying under a hedge, watching the cows."
"Don't you go to believe, mother, I've been wasting my time like that. The cows are competent to take care of themselves."
"What have you been doing, then?"
"What have I been doing? Why, now, there's a question! Why, the world's turned upside down, I think; and you sit here, blinking in the sun, and know nothing about it."