of being mended. The boy was sincerely sorry, for his father had bade
him take good care of the stuff to save money; during these times there
were hard shifts in the big house, which with its three doors, triple
gables adorned with beautifully-arched volutes, and six windows in the
upper and lower stories, fronted the Werffsteg in a very proud, stately
guise.

The burgomaster's office did not bring in a large income, and Adrian's
grandfather's trade of preparing chamois leather, as well as the business
in skins, was falling off; his father had other matters in his head,
matters that claimed not only his intellect, strength and time, but also
every superfluous farthing.

Adrian had nothing pleasant to expect at home--certainly not from his
father, far less from his aunt Barbara. Yet the boy dreaded the anger of
these two far less, than a single disapproving glance from the eyes of
the young wife, whom he had called "mother" scarcely a twelve month, and
who was only six years his senior.

She never said an unkind word to him, but his defiance and wildness
melted before her beauty, her quiet, aristocratic manner. He scarcely
knew himself whether he loved her or not, but she appeared like the good
fairy of whom the fairy tales spoke, and it often seemed as if she were
far too delicate, dainty and charming for her simple, unpretending home.
To see her smile rendered the boy happy, and when she looked sad--a thing
that often happened-it made his heart ache. Merciful Heavens! She
certainly could not receive him kindly when she saw his doublet, the
ruffles thrust into his pocket, and his unlucky stockings.

And then!