e matter? What are you going to do?"

"Wait and see!" answered Hans as he plunged into the cottage and came
out again, all in an instant, bearing the spade and ysbreeker in his
hands. "I'm going to bury my magic bead!"

Raff Brinker still slept soundly. His wife took a small block of peat
from her nearly exhausted store and put it upon the embers. Then opening
the door, she called gently, "Come in, children."

"Mother! Mother! See here!" shouted Hans.

"Holy Saint Bavon!" exclaimed the dame, springing over the doorstep.
"What ails the boy!"

"Come quick, Mother," he cried in great excitement, working with all his
might and driving in the ysbreeker at each word. "Don't you see? THIS is
the spot--right here on the south side of the stump. Why didn't we think
of it last night? THE STUMP is the old willow tree--the one you cut down
last spring because it shaded the potatoes. That little tree wasn't here
when Father... Huzza!"

Dame Brinker could not speak. She dropped on her knees beside Hans just
in time to see him drag forth THE OLD STONE POT!

He thrust in his hand and took out a piece of brick, then another, then
another, then the stocking and the pouch, black and moldy, but filled
with the long-lost treasure!

Such a time! Such laughing! Such crying! Such counting after they went
into the cottage! It was a wonder that Raff did not waken. His dreams
were pleasant, however, for he smiled in his sleep.

Dame Brinker and her children had a fine supper, I can assure you. No
need of saving the delicacies now.

"We'll get Father some nice fresh things tomorrow," Dame Brinker said as
she brought forth cold meat, wine, bread, and jelly, and placed them on
the clean pine table. "Sit by, children, sit by."

That night Annie fell asleep wondering whether it was a knife Hans had
lost and thinking how funny it would be if he should find it, after all.

Hans had scarcely closed his eyes before he found himself trudging along
a thicket; pots of gold were lying all around, and watches and skates,
and glittering beads were swinging from every branch.

Strange to say, each tree, as he approached it, changed into a stump,
and on the stump sat the prettiest fairy imaginable, clad in a scarlet
jacket and a blue petticoat.

The Mysterious Watch

Something else than the missing guilders was brought to light on the day
of the fairy godmother's visit. This was the story of the watch that for
ten long years had be