(Geography—Ethics—Manual Training)
In a chalet high up among the Austrian mountains, blue-eyed Franz was very unhappy because his mother and brother Johan were going to Vienna and he had to stay at home with his old grandfather. He bit his lips to keep back the tears as he watched the packing of the box that was to carry their clothing. Then his mother tried to comfort him.
“Never mind, lad,” she said. “I’ll send you a present from Vienna, and we’ll call it a ‘luck gift’ and hope it will bring good luck. If it does you’ll be a luck boy.”
He smiled even if he did feel sad. He had often heard of luck children, for among the Tyrolean peasants there were many stories of those who had been led by fairies to have such wonderful good fortune that ever afterward they were spoken of as the elf-aided, or “Glücks Kinder,” and it was so delightful to think about being one of them that he forgot his sorrow. Of course it would be very fine to travel down to Vienna and go into the service of a rich noble there, as his mother and brother were to do, but it would be still better to be a “Glücks Kind,” and such things sometimes did happen. So he did not feel sad any more, but whistled and sang and helped with the packing.
Early next morning the post chaise rattled up to the door, and Johan and the mother drove away. Franz watched them go down the winding white road, calling after them in sweet Tyrolean words of endearment until they were out of sight. Then he went back into the hut and began to sandpaper some blocks that his grandfather needed for his work. The old man was a maker of picture frames, all carved and decorated with likenesses of mountain flowers, and these, when sent to Innsbruck and Vienna, brought the money that gave him his living. The figures were too fine and difficult for Franz to carve, but he could lend a hand at fetching blocks and sandpapering. He worked with a vim, for Tyrolean boys think it a disgrace to shirk, but all the while his thoughts were on the luck gift.
“I wonder what it will be?” he said to his grandfather. They took turns at guessing, until it was time to feed the goats and house the chickens for the night.
A week later the man who had driven Johan and his mother away came by on his return from Vienna, and Franz fairly flew out to get his gift.
“It is something very big,” he called to the old frame maker as he took a bulging bag. “See, it is stuffed full!” And he expected to find something very wonderful.
But when he opened it, he thought it wasn’t wonderful at all. There was a blue velvet jacket, trimmed with gold braid and fastened with glittering buttons, such as Tyrolean boys wore in those days, and in one of the pockets he found a shining knife.
“Well, of all things!” he exclaimed as he held them up for his grandfather to see. “It’s a splendid jacket, and the knife is a beauty, but I don’t see where the luck part comes in.”