"Oh, there are casual exceptions to every rule!" said her husband.
"But, now, what's to be done?"
"Listen," said the wife, who was a shrewd kind of woman; "we can't let the children starve, can we?"
"No, indeed!"
"Then follow my advice. I know of a grass that, given to a horse, or an ox, or a sheep, or a goat, makes the animal fall down, looking as if it were dead."
"Well, but you don't mean to feed the children with this grass, do you?" said the smith, not seeing the drift of what she meant.
"No; but you could secretly go and give some to your uncle's fattest ox."
"So," said the husband, scratching his head.
"Once the animal falls down dead, he'll surely give it to you, as no butcher 'll buy it; we'll kill it and thus be provided with meat for a long time. Besides, you can sell the bones, the horns, the hide, and get a little money besides."
"And for to-morrow?"
"I'll manage to borrow a few potatoes and a cup of milk."