She was digging in the cottage garden, for Henzel would do no work at home, when a very old man toiled slowly up the hill. His clothes were dusty, and his staff was bent; he looked very weary, and his voice, as he bade her ‘Goodmorrow,’ was faint and low. Gretchen’s heart was filled with pity; she invited him to enter her tidy kitchen, and put before him the best she had. It was not much, but her strange guest thanked her gratefully. While he rested, she went to the forest, to cut him a strong oak sapling for a staff. The old man had vanished when she returned, and in his place sat a little Dwarf, not more than twelve inches high.
‘I perceive that you have a kind disposition, Gretchen, which is better than a rich dower,’ he said, waving his hand for her to be seated also. ‘You are already sufficiently blessed,’ he went on, ‘in being both virtuous and patient, but I am willing to grant you your dearest wish. Speak out, and tell me what you most desire.’
Gretchen bent her brows, and pondered deeply. If she asked the Dwarf for gold, Henzel would rejoice, but she had lived with him long enough to know that whatever he had, he would still want more. Should she ask for another husband, then, since the one she had, had ceased to love her, and threw her but scornful looks? Nay—that would be wrong, for whatever happened she was Henzel’s wife. And the flush on her girlish face became yet deeper, for a very sweet thought had fluttered across her mind. She would ask for a little child to lie on her breast, and bear her company through the long nights and days.
When the Dwarf heard her whispered request, he smiled on her very kindly.
‘You are a true woman,’ he said, and disappeared as Henzel crossed the threshold.