صفحة 381 من 626

'What have you done!' said her mother, 'but no one must know

about it, so you must keep silence; what is done can't be undone;

we will make him into puddings.' And she took the little boy and

cut him up, made him into puddings, and put him in the pot. But

Marleen stood looking on, and wept and wept, and her tears fell

into the pot, so that there was no need of salt.

Presently the father came home and sat down to his dinner; he

asked, 'Where is my son?' The mother said nothing, but gave him a

large dish of black pudding, and Marleen still wept without

ceasing.

The father again asked, 'Where is my son?'

'Oh,' answered the wife, 'he is gone into the country to his

mother's great uncle; he is going to stay there some time.'

'What has he gone there for, and he never even said goodbye to

me!'

'Well, he likes being there, and he told me he should be away

quite six weeks; he is well looked after there.'