When the goat-boy came along with his flock in the morning, Paula was already standing in front of the house, and she called out:
“Moni, can’t you sing even now?”
He shook his head. “No, I can’t. I am always wondering how much longer Mäggerli will go with me. I never can sing any more as long as I live, and here is the cross.” Whereupon he handed her a little package, for the grandmother had wrapped it carefully for him in three or four papers.
Paula took out the cross from the wrappings and examined it closely. It really was her beautiful cross with the sparkling stones, and quite unharmed. “Well, Moni,” she said now very kindly, “you have given me a great pleasure, for if it had not been for you, I might never have seen my cross again. Now, I am going to give you a pleasure. Go take Mäggerli there out of the shed, she belongs to you now!”
Moni stared at the young lady in astonishment, as if it were impossible to understand her words. At last he stammered: “But how—how can Mäggerli be mine?”
“How?” replied Paula, smiling. “See, last evening I bought her from the landlord and this morning I give her to you. Now can’t you sing once more?”
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Moni and ran like mad to the shed, led the little goat out, and took it in his arms. Then he leaped back and held out his hand to Paula and said over and over again:
“I thank you a thousand, thousand times! May God reward you! If I could do something nice for you!”
“Well, then try once more and let us see if you can sing again!” said Paula.
Then Moni sang his song and went on up the mountain with the goats, and his jubilant tones rang down into the valley, so that there was no one in the whole Bath House who did not hear it and many an one turned over in his bed and said: “The goat-boy has good weather once more.”