When, at last, I got back to the house with my pot of fire, I was greatly surprised to see blue smoke rising out of the chimney.
"You're one to send to fetch death and not fire!" cried mother, as I entered.
And she busied herself about the fire crackling in the hearth and did not so much as look at me.
My coals were now hardly flickering and looked wretched beside that fire. I put the pot down sadly in a corner of the hearth and slunk away. I had been gone much too long; then, by good fortune, Cousin Jok had come home from the meadow, and he had a burning-glass, which he held over a piece of tinder in the sun until it caught. And so the sun which I had slandered had stolen a march upon me and provided fire for the porridge before I did. I was heartily ashamed of myself and, to this day, am unable to look the benefactor straight in the face.
I slunk into the paddock. There I saw Cousin Jok squatting in his long grey, red-embroidered fur, with his white head. And, when I drew nigh, I saw why he was squatting here like that. The snow-white kid lay in front of him, with its head and its feet outstretched and Cousin Jok was stripping off its hide.
At that I burst into loud weeping. Cousin Jok stood up, took me by the hand, and said:
"There it lies and looks at you!"
And the kid really was staring into my face with its glassy eyes. And yet it was dead.
"Peterle!" whispered my cousin, gravely. "Mother sent the Knierutscher woman a loaf of bread."