he received only this sorrowful answer,

"I want my mother."

Gertrude drew the child tenderly towards her, caressing her, and
promising her that they would all go together some day to join her mother,
who had only gone on before, that she might get strong and well again. And
gradually this second mother grew to take the place of her own, and no
game, no amusement could draw the loving child away from Gertrude's side.
Only Dietrich could succeed in enticing her to go with him now and then.

The lad's love for his mother showed itself in a louder and more
demonstrative manner. He often threw his arms about her neck, crying
passionately,

"My mother belongs to me and to nobody else."

Then Veronica's brows would knit over her flashing eyes, until they formed
a long straight line across her face. But she did not speak. And Gertrude
would put one arm about the boy's neck and the other about the little
girl's, and say,

"You must not speak so, Dietrich. I belong to you both, and you both
belong to me."

In general, the two children were excellent friends, and completely
inseparable. They were not happy unless they shared everything together
and wherever one went, the other must go too. They went regularly to
school every morning, and were always joined by two of the neighbors'
children, who went with them.

These were, the son of the shoemaker, long, bony Jost, with his little,
cunning eyes,--and the sexton's boy, who was as broad as he was long, and
from whose round face two pale eyes peered forth upon the world, in
innocently stupid surprise. His name was Blasius, nicknamed Blasi.

Often, on the way to school, quarrels arose between Dieterli and the two
other boys. It would occur to one of them to try what Veronica would do if
he were to give her a blow with his fist. Scarcely had he opened his
attack when he found himself lying on his nose, while Dieterli played a
vigorous tattoo on his back with no gentle fists. Or the sport would be to
plant a good hard snow-ball between V