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Lintzow opened the carriage-door with a formal bow, Consul Hartvig looked at his wife and she at him, the Pastor advanced and renewed his invitation, and the end was that, with half-laughing reluctance, they alighted and suffered the Pastor to usher them into the spacious garden-room. Then came renewed excuses and introductions.
But gradually she began to feel at her ease among these good-natured, kindly people; the youngest Miss Hartvig even put her arm around her waist as they walked. And then Rebecca, too, thawed; she joined in their laughter, and said what she had to say as easily and freely as any of the others. It never occurred to her to notice that the young men, and especially Mr.
But as he was closing the carriage door he was so maladroit as to drop the bouquet; only a single violet remained in his hand. "I suppose it's no use offering you this one, Miss Frederica?" he said. "No, thanks; you may keep that as a memento of your remarkable dexterity," answered Miss Hartvig; he was in her black books.
Hartvig," answered the Pastor, smiling, "that so pleasant an interruption of our solitude would be most welcome both to my daughter and myself." Mr.
And great was the glee when one of the young men was overtaken, or when a larger wave than usual sent its fringe of foam right over the slope, and forced the merry party to beat a precipitate retreat. "Look! Mamma's afraid that we shall be too late for the ball," cried Miss Hartvig, suddenly; and they now discovered that the Consul and Mrs.
Hartvig interrupted him eagerly, "this is going too far! Even if this incorrigible Mr. Lintzow and my crazy sons have succeeded in storming your house and home, I won't resign the last remnants of my authority. The entertainment shall most certainly be my affair. Off you go, young men," she said, turning to her sons, "and unpack the carriages.
"Let me help you, Miss Rebecca," cried Max, and ran after her. "That is a lively young man," said the Pastor. "Yes, isn't he?" answered the Consul, "and a deuced good business man into the bargain. He has spent several years abroad, and now his father has taken him into partnership." "He's perhaps a little unstable," said Mrs. Hartvig, doubtfully. "Yes, he is indeed," sighed Miss Frederica.
She shrieked and cried piteously for help, with her eyes fixed upon Lintzow. "Look alive, Henrik!" cried Max to Hartvig junior, who was nearer at hand; "why don't you help your sister?" Miss Frederica extricated herself without help, and the party proceeded. The table was laid in the garden, along the wall of the house; and although the spring was so young, it was warm enough in the sunshine.
Hartvig and the Pastor were standing like three windmills on the Parsonage hill, waving with pocket handkerchiefs and napkins. They turned their faces homeward. Rebecca took them by a short cut over the morass, not reflecting that the ladies from the town could not jump from tuft to tuft as she could. Miss Frederica, in her tight skirt, jumped short, and stumbled into a muddy hole.
Rebecca looked at her father, and so did Lintzow; the worthy Pastor pulled a face upon which even Ansgarius could read a confession of crime. "I can't possibly believe," began Mrs. Hartvig, "that you, Pastor, have been conspiring with " And then he could not help laughing and making a clean breast of it, amid great merriment, while the boys in triumph produced the parcel with the game.
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