“Well, some one must be doing it,” said the other, and passed on his way.

Judith had been busy at her washing full two hours longer, when in the doorway of the sexton’s house appeared a young fellow, whose figure, almost as broad as it was long, filled the opening, with scarce anything to spare.  He tried to yawn, but there was not room enough to stretch his arms, so he stepped outside for the purpose, and there he gaped so heartily that all the inside of his big mouth and throat was distinctly visible.

“There’s nothing in it, Blasi!  I’ve had a good look at it,” cried Judith.  “If you had been here two hours ago, you might have seen a sight.  A girl with a whole mouthful of gold!  What do you say to that?”

Blasi caught at this, and brought his jaws together with a snap.

“What! full of gold?” he exclaimed, and opened his sleepy eyes to their utmost extent.  “Why doesn’t the foolish thing carry it in her pocket?  Where does she come from?”

“That’s no concern of yours.  You will never come up with her,” replied Judith.

“Tell me, for all that,” urged Blasi, coming toward Judith, “I can go after her, and I’ve no doubt I shall come up with her, and then there’s no telling what may happen.  Come, where did she go, now?  Do you know her name?”

“Her name is Early Morn, Blasi,” said Judith pleasantly.  “Did you never hear the saying, ‘There’s gold in the mouth of the early morn.’”

Blasi made a wry face and began in an angry tone,

“There’s nothing very clever in that”—­but just then he remembered that when he came out of the house he had intended to come over and say something quite different to Judith; so he changed his tone quickly, and said,

“Can you lend me a franc or two; I have just time to do a little business before eleven o’clock, and then I must be back to ring the noon bell; I must try to help father, a little.”

“No, no, Blasi, I have no francs for you,” said Judith decidedly.  “It wants three hours yet of being eleven o’clock.  Use those big arms of yours, and they’ll bring you francs enough.”  And so saying, she lifted her clothes-basket on her head, and walked away.

Blasi stood looking after her, a moment, then he sauntered off, with both hands in his pockets, up the road towards, the shoemaker’s old house.  There sat Jost before the door, hammering away at something as if for dear life.  Blasi drew near, and stood watching the busy hands of his friend, who presently cried out angrily,

“So it is holiday with you, is it, you lazy-bones?  It is maddening to see one fellow go wandering about with his hands in his pockets, while another has to sit on his three-legged stool, hammering away at the soles of these—­these—­these Tanneneggers’ boots.  To-morrow is Cherry-festival in Fohrensee, and every one is going; and I, I must get their boots ready!  I wish a thunder-storm would come and wash this away, and that, and the whole lot of ’em!” As he spoke he tossed away first the mended boots, then the hammer, and last of all the three-legged stool, away, as far as he could throw them, down into the meadow.  He was white with rage.