and there was nothing for a month but scrubbing and sweeping and mending.
"A poor place, Hansel will think it, when all is done, after the fine houses of the city," sighed Gretel; but her husband shook his head.
"The lad is a good lad—he will be thinking how happy he was in the old days. Never fear but he will be glad to see his home."
And so he was. But the parents stared when he came springing in at the door one evening. Could this tall, well-dressed youth be their own Hansel—the very same Hansel? He was not long in convincing them, for his arms were about them, and his voice trembled as he called them by name.
After he had been kissed and embraced enough, and his height measured by his father's, he was allowed to seat himself on the roughly cut stool he used to sit on, and begin the story of his
