The thing he carried in his left hand
he laid down on the pavement; but that which he held in his right hand
he took with him to the cage. He kicked so hard with his wooden shoes on
the little window that the glass was broken. He poked in the thing which
he held in his hand to the lady squirrel. Then he slid down again, and
took up that which he had laid upon the ground, and climbed up to the
cage with that also. The next instant he ran off again with such haste
that the old woman could hardly follow him with her eyes.
But now it was the old grandma who could no longer sit still in the
cottage; but who, very slowly, went out to the back yard and stationed
herself in the shadow of the pump to await the elf's return. And there
was one other who had also seen him and had become curious. This was the
house cat. He crept along slyly and stopped close to the wall, just two
steps away from the stream of light. They both stood and waited, long
and patiently, on that chilly March night, and the old woman was just
beginning to think about going in again, when she heard a clatter on the
pavement, and saw that the little mite of an elf came trotting along
once more, carrying a burden in each hand, as he had done before. That
which he bore squealed and squirmed. And now a light dawned on the old
grandma.
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