"Why, that I buried the money. In my dream just now, it seemed I had never said aught about it."
Dame Brinker started forward. Hans caught her arm.
"Hist! mother," he whispered, hastily leading her away, "we must be very careful." Then while she stood with clasped hands waiting in breathless anxiety, he once more approached the cot. Trembling with eagerness he said:
"That was a troublesome dream. Do you remember when you buried the money, father?"
"Yes, my boy. It was before daylight on the same day I was hurt. Jan Kamphuisen said something, the sundown before, that made me distrust his honesty. He was the only one living besides mother who knew we had saved a thousand guilders—so I rose up that night and buried the money—blockhead that I was ever to suspect an old friend!"
"I'll be bound, father," pursued Hans in a laughing voice, motioning to his mother and Gretel to remain quiet—"that you've forgotten where you buried it."
"Ha! ha! not I, indeed—but good-night, my son, I can sleep again."
Hans would have walked away, but his mother's gestures were not to be disobeyed—so he said gently:
"Good-night, father. Where did you say you buried the money? I was only a little one then."
"Close by the willow sapling behind the cottage," said Raff Brinker drowsily.