through the keyhole,--

"Let me in! quick! there is no time to lose. More snow like this and
the roads will all be blocked. Let me in! Do you hear? I am come to
take the great stove."

Hilda unfastened the door. The man came in at once, and began to wrap
the stove in a great many wrappings, and carried it out into the snow,
where an ox-cart stood in waiting. In another moment it was gone; gone
forever!

Karl leaned against the wall, his tears falling like rain down his
pale cheeks.

An old neighbor came by just then, and, seeing the boy, said to him:
"Child, is it true your father is selling that big painted stove?"

Karl nodded his head, and began to sob again. "I love it! I love it!"
he said.

"Well, if I were you I would do better than cry. I would go after it
when I grew bigger," said the neighbor, trying to cheer him up a
little. "Don't cry so loud; you will see your stove again some day,"
and the old man went away, leaving a new idea in Karl's head.

"Go after it," the old man had said. Karl thought, "Why not go with
it?" He loved it better than anything else in the world, even better
than Hilda. He ran off quickly after the cart which was carrying the
dear Hirschvogel to the station. How he managed it he never knew very
well himself, but it was certain that when the freight train moved