The dwarf looked in astonishment on the master of the house, who, regardless of the hospitable customs of the country, could thus turn a poor man away from his door; but the farmer took no notice of his surprise, nor of his wife's looks of entreaty.
"No, wife," he said harshly, "this time you shall not have your own way. I will not keep open house for all the beggars in the land. Did I not give in to you about that boy over there? You might be content with that."
Poor Hans blushed crimson at this allusion to his poverty, but when the little man turned away with a sigh and left the inhospitable threshold, sympathy with the poor old man overcame his fear of his employer; he seized the plate with the pancakes, and the great piece of bread which the farmer's wife had just given him, and ran out of the room.
"What's the boy after?" asked the farmer angrily.
"He is just doing what we ought to have done," answered the wife, with gentle reproach in her fair face; "he is sharing his meal with the poor man."
"Yes, yes," growled the man, "birds of a feather flock together."
Meantime the old man was creeping with weary steps across the yard, and had just reached the gate when Hans seized him by the arm.
"Here, good little man," said he in mingled pity and fear—"here is my supper; come, sit down there on the well and eat."
The old man's dark eyes rested with a pleased look on the boy. "And what hast thou for thyself, child, if thou givest away thine own share?"