"You really won't have to take care of that one much longer," began Jörgli again. "It won't come up here many times more."
"What? What? What did you say, Jörgli?" demanded Moni.
"Bah, don't you know about it? The landlord will not raise her, she is too weak; there never was a more feeble goat. He wanted to sell her to my father, but he wouldn't have her either; now the landlord is going to have her killed next week, and then he will buy our spotted one."
Moni had become quite pale from terror. At first he couldn't speak a word; but now he broke out and complained aloud over the little kid:
"No, no, that shall not be done, Mäggerli, it shall not be done. They shall not slay you, I can't bear that. Oh, I would rather die with you; no, that cannot be!"
"Don't do so," said Jörgli, angrily, and pulled Moni up, for in his grief he had thrown himself face down on the ground. "Stand up, you know the kid really belongs to the landlord and he can do what he likes with her. Think no more about it! Come, I know something. See! See!" Whereupon Jörgli held out one hand to Moni, and with the other almost covered the object, which Moni was to admire; it sparkled wonderfully in his hand, for the sun shone straight into it.
"What is it?" asked Moni, when it sparkled again, lighted up by a sunbeam.
"Guess!"
"A ring?"
"No, but something like that."