Grandmother’s pressing the children to go before it was time, so that they should not get home late, had only the effect that they tarried on the way, now here, now there.  They liked to sit by the hazelwoods on the “neck” and open nuts with stones; or, if there were no nuts, they played with leaves or pegs or the soft brown cones that drop from the branches of fir-trees in the beginning of spring.  Sometimes, Conrad told his little sister stories or, when arrived at the red memorial post, would lead her a short distance up the side-road and tell her that here one could get on the Snow-Mountain, that up there were great rocks and stones, that the chamois gamboled and great birds circled about up there.  He often led her out beyond the forest, when they would look at the dry grass and the small bushes of the heather; but then he returned with her, invariably bringing her home before twilight, which always earned him praise.

One winter, on the morning before Christmas, when the first dawn had passed into day, a thin dry veil was spread over the whole sky so that one could see the low and distant sun only as an indistinct red spot; moreover, the air that day was mild, almost genial, and absolute calm reigned in the entire valley as well as in the heavens, as was indicated by the unchanging and immobile forms of the clouds.  So the shoemaker’s wife said to her children:  “As today is pleasant and it has not rained for a long time and the roads are hard, and as father gave you permission yesterday, if the weather continued fine, you may go to visit grandmother in Millsdorf; but ask father once more.”

The children, who were still standing there in their little nightgowns, ran into the adjoining room where their father was speaking with a customer and asked him again for his permission, because it was such a fine day.  It was given and they ran back to their mother.

The shoemaker’s wife now dressed the children carefully, or rather, she dressed the little girl in snug-fitting warm dresses; for the boy began to dress himself and was finished long before his mother had the little girl straightened out.  When they were both ready she said:  “Now, Conrad, be nice and careful.  As I let your little sister go with you, you must leave betimes and not remain standing anywhere, and when you have eaten at grandmother’s you must return at once and come home; for the days are very short now and the sun sets very soon.”

“Yes, I know, mother,” said Conrad.

“And take good care of Sanna that she does not fall or get over-heated.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Well, then, God bless you, now go to father and tell him you are leaving.”

The boy slung a bag of calfskin, artfully sewed by his father, about his shoulders by a strap and the children went into the adjoining room to say farewell to their father.  Soon they issued again and merrily skipped along the village street, after their mother had once more made the sign of the cross over them.