St. Nicholas Magazine for Boys and Girls, Vol. 5, October 1878, No. 12 | Page 2

eating his supper of black bread and
cheese, he sat listlessly watching his mother varnish violins, by which
she earned a trifle every week. This was due to the kindness of the chief
manufacturer in the village, who, since her husband's death, had
supplied her regularly with some of the light work usually performed
by women, and to which she was well accustomed, having frequently
assisted her husband, who had been one of Herr Dahn's best workmen,
and whose death had left her entirely dependent on her own exertions
for the support of herself and child; for the last two years, however,
Stephan had bravely earned his mite by taking daily care of the goats
belonging to the whole valley. He was now discussing with his mother
the possibility of his ever being able to maintain them both by
following his father's trade of making guitars and violins, when a loud
knock put the future to flight, and caused Stephan to open the door so
suddenly that a very excited old woman came tumbling into the room.
"Oh! Bridgetta, how could you lean against the door?" said Frau
Reindel, hastening to her assistance. "I hope you are not hurt, and do
pray remember, in future, that our door opens inside, and that you must
step down into the room. Sit down, neighbor," she added, placing a
stool for the old woman, who was, however, far too angry to notice it;
but turning toward Stephan, whom she unfortunately caught smiling,
she pointed to her large fur cap, that had rolled some distance across
the floor, saying: "Pick it up, boy, and don't stand grinning like that,
especially as you must know why I have come here so late in the
evening." Then snatching it from him, without heeding his apologies,
she added: "Yes, indeed, you have more cause to cry than laugh. A
pretty herd-boy you are, to come home without people's goats! sitting
here as contentedly as if you had done your day's duty! You had better
be more careful or you will certainly lose your work, if I have a voice
in the village!"
Stephan and his mother stood aghast at this angry tirade, and it was
only after repeated questions, sulkily answered, that they finally

understood that her own goat was really missing. She had, as usual,
gone into the stable to milk it, and after waiting in vain till past seven
o'clock, she had come to tell Stephan he must at once seek for it among
the neighbors' goats. He was quite willing, nay, anxious to do so, being
unable to account in any way for its absence; for he could not
remember having noticed the little gray goat with the white face since
the early part of the morning. There was consequently nothing left to be
done that night but to make an immediate inquiry at every house in the
village. He did not return till past nine o'clock,--a very late hour in that
primitive spot, where people usually rise at four or five and go to bed at
eight. No one had seen the goat, but almost all blamed his carelessness,
so that he was too unhappy to sleep, especially as he could not forget
how distressed his poor mother looked, knowing, as she did, that
somehow or other she must pay the value of the goat, though how such
a sum was to be earned was beyond guessing.
A week passed, nothing was heard of the strayed one; Stephan had
searched every possible spot up the mountain, and inquired of every
person he met coming from the neighboring villages or beyond the
frontier of the Tyrol,--but all in vain. A report had spread in the valley
that he had lamed the goat with a stone, and so caused it to fall over a
precipice. Many people believed this, which greatly increased the
unhappiness of Stephan and his mother, though he had denied the
charge most positively.
"I, at least, believe you, my son," said his mother, one day, when
Bridgetta was present. "You never told me a lie, and I thank God for
my truthful child, more than for all else."
"You can believe what you like," said Bridgetta, angrily; "but, as your
boy has lost my goat, and as I am poor, and have already waited longer
than I can afford, I must ask you to pay me by to-morrow evening, so
that I may buy another, for you forget that I have done without milk all
these days."
"No, I do not forget," said the widow, sadly. "I will do my best to get
the money for you. It is right you should have your own, and you know
I would have paid you at once had it been in my power. I