FIFTH YEAR
LITTLE WOLFF AND HIS WOODEN SHOE
I
Once upon a time, so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date, there was a little boy whose name was Wolff. He lived with his aunt in a tall old house in a city whose name is so hard to pronounce that nobody can speak it. He was seven years old, and he could not remember that he had ever seen his father or his mother.
The old aunt who had the care of little Wolff was very selfish and cross. She gave him dry bread to eat, of which there was never enough; and not more than once in the year did she speak kindly to him.
But the poor boy loved this woman, because he had no one else to love; and there was never a day so dark that he did not think of the sunlight.
Everybody knew that Wolff’s aunt owned a house and had a stocking full of gold under her bed, and so she did not dare to send the little boy to the school for the poor as she would have liked to do. But a schoolmaster on the next street agreed to teach him for almost nothing; and whenever there was work he could do, he was kept at home.