The next winter, the aches in Jehan's bones made it too difficult for him to move. He had been crippled for years. But now, it was impossible for him even to walk beside the cart.
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Little Nello was now six years old. He knew Antwerp well because he had accompanied his grandfather there many times. So, Nello took Jehan's place beside the cart and walked with Patrasche instead.
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Nello sold the milk in Antwerp and received the coins in exchange. He brought the money back to the farmers in the village. He did all his work with an innocent dignity; everyone who met him was charmed.
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Nello was a beautiful child, with tender eyes, a lovely face, and light blond hair. Often when Nello and Patrasche were walking into town, an artist stopped them on the road. He would ask little Nello if he could sketch him.
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Since Nello and Patrasche were never in a rush, Nello usually agreed. Besides, Nello loved seeing the finished sketch. The artist would carefully draw Nello and Patrasche with the fields of Flanders in the background.
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Nello and Patrasche delivered the milk so well that Jehan did not worry. On summer mornings, he sat in the sunlit doorway of the hut. He watched the happy pair head down the road. In the afternoon, he rested and then watched for their return.
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At the hut, Patrasche would shake himself free of his harness with a happy bark. Nello would proudly tell his grandfather everything they had done. Then they would all eat a dinner of rye bread and soup.
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At the end of each day, the shadows grew long in the pastures. The distant spire of the great cathedral faded in the twilight. At night, Nello and Patrasche lay down together while the old man said a prayer.
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So the days and the years went on. The lives of Nello and Patrasche were happy and innocent. Flanders is not a place of majestic beauty, but the land is green and wide. Its spacious horizons are pleasant and welcoming.
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In summer, fall, and spring, little Nello and Patrasche would lie in the grass beside the canal. They watched the boats drift by and breathed the salty air of the sea.
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In the winter, life was harder. They had to get up in the dark and the bitter cold. The hut was not much warmer than a shed, and the wind found many holes in the walls. The bare fields around the hut looked flat and grim.
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The cold pinched little Nello's hands and toes. The snow and ice cut the brave, tireless feet of Patrasche. But the two friends never complained. They walked over the frozen fields together, accompanied by the chime of the bells on Patrasche's harness.
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Sometimes, in the streets of Antwerp, a housewife would bring them a bowl of soup and a handful of bread. Sometimes, a kindly merchant would throw a little firewood into the small cart as they went home.
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Patrasche worked through the heat of summer and the chills of winter. Even though he was often hungry, he was grateful and content. As Patrasche worked, the eyes that he loved smiled down on him. It was enough.