"Johann called him names," she rejoined.
"But surely hard names break no bones. If we fought whenever we heard ill of ourselves we should have little time for else than fighting. Now tell me truly why did they fight?"
And then I felt Sonnlein tugging at my hand and looking up at me more shamefaced than ever as he cried out, "Let us go, Vaterchen, I told thee why we fought," all the while frowning at our little sister as though warning her not to say anything.
I am not overly inquisitive, but now I was resolved to know all, so I said to her sternly, "My little sister, tell me the truth," and then more tenderly I said, "thou knowest Brother Jabez would not hurt thee or Sonnlein—not overmuch." Upon which great assurance she spake up as bravely as she could between the sobs that would not keep back, "Johann said I must be his wife when I was grown up, and Sonnlein said I was to be his wife, and—and—I—I—said so too."
"Well, what then?" I asked between stern surprise and tenderness as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Why, then we will keep house together," she replied innocently.
"I meant not what ye were going to do. I meant what did Johann do after thou didst promise thyself to Sonnlein?"
"Why Johann called Sonnlein bad names and struck me in the face and Sonnlein hit him." And then she said with such proud defiance I was greatly shocked, "Sonnlein licked him."
"And so ye two are to be man and wife when ye are grown up? What is thy name?" I asked turning to the little shrew.
"Mary."