“What a pity it is you are so heavy and stupid!” his father now would often say. “If I only dared trust you, how glad I should be to send you to see what has befallen your brothers!”
The lad was used to hear himself pronounced good-for-nothing, and so he did not take much notice of these observations at first, but seeing his father really in distress, his affectionate heart was moved, and he one day summoned courage to say he would go and see if he could not find his brothers.
“Do you really think you can keep yourself out of harm’s way?” exclaimed his father, glad to find him propose to undertake the adventure.
“I will do whatever you tell me,” replied the lad.
“Well, you shan’t go empty-handed, at all events,” said the father. And, as the pears were just ripe again, he laid the choicest of the year’s stock in another Krattle, and sent him on his way.
The boy walked along, looking neither to right nor left, but with his heart beating, lest he should come across the “harm” out of the way of which he had promised to keep himself. All went smoothly, however, except that he got terribly scorched by the sun, and when he reached the fountain, he was glad to sit down to rest and refresh himself.
The old wife was washing her rags in the water, and singing, as she patted the linen, a ditty all out of tune. “Here comes a third of those surly dogs, I declare!” she said to herself, as she saw him arrive with another lot of the magnificent pears. “I suppose he’ll be making game of me too—as if I didn’t know the scent of ripe golden pears from road-sweepings! a likely matter! But if they enjoy making game of me, I have a splendid revenge to enjoy upon them, so I oughtn’t to complain.”
“Good-morrow, little mother!” said the boy, in his blunt way, ere he sat down, at the same time not omitting to doff his cap, as he had been taught, because she happened to be old and ugly—matters of which he had no very nice appreciation.
“He’s better mannered than the other louts, for all he doesn’t look so bright-faced,” said the hag to herself; and she stopped her discordant song to return his greeting.
“May I sit down here a bit, please, good mother? asked the boy, thinking in his simplicity the fountain must belong to her.