"Surely," said Hans
to himself, "if I find my luck on this day, it must be good and not
ill."
So he came to the little red cottage at the edge of the wood wherein
lived the wise woman who knew many things and one. Hans scraped his feet
on the stones until they were clean, and then he knocked at the door.
"Come in," said the old wise woman.
She was as strange an old woman as one could hope to see in a lifetime.
Her nose bent down to meet her chin, and her chin bent up to reach her
nose; her face was gray with great age, and her hair was as white as
snow. She wore a long red cloak over her shoulders, and a great black
cat sat on the back of her chair.
"What do you want, Son Hans?" said she.
"I want to find my luck, mother," said Hans.
"Where did you lose it, Son Hans?" said she.
"That I do not know, mother," said Hans.
Then the old wise woman said "Hum-m-m!" in a very thoughtful voice, and
Hans said nothing at all.
After a while she spoke again. "Have you enough to eat?" said she.
"Oh yes!" said Hans.
"Have you enough to drink?" said she.
"Plenty of water, enough of milk, but no beer," said Hans.
"Have you enough clothes to cover you?" said she.
"Oh yes!" said Hans.
"Are you warm enough in winter?" said she.
"Oh yes!" said Hans.
"Then you had better leave well enough alone," said she, "for luck can
give you nothing more."
"But it might put money into my pocket," said Hans.
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