"Nein, nein, child, it's grandfather," and she wrapped the little girl in her shawl. "But wake up now. It is late, and time to go home to mother."
Then she turned to Hans, Bettina's little hand held fast in hers.
"Quick, friend, hurry," she said, "and be off now. The night is terrible and Annchen will be anxious, will she not?" And she nodded to Wilhelm to hold the light.
Draining his glass, Hans set it down on the table with a sigh of pleasure.
"Ja, ja," he said, as he drew closer his cloak.
"A moment," and Frau Schmidt stepped to the tall, green porcelain stove which served, before firetime, as her storehouse.
"Here," she said, and from one of its little recesses she brought forth a bundle done up with paper and string.
"Some sausages, please, for Anna," and she gave Hans the package, "and best greetings."
Then, in her quick, kind way, she hurried them to the door, bundling Bettina more closely as they went.
"Auf wiedersehen, good-night, good-night," and she held open the door. "The weather truly is dreadful. Here, Willy, here, my son, hold the candle higher. Ja, ja, that is better. Can you see, Hans? Good-night, Bettina. Best greetings to your dear mother, and good-night, good-night."