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Updated: April 30, 2025
But he stopped the driver, and cried, "Let us remain here!" "Hush!" said the older lady, with a low laugh. "This won't do, Mr. Lintzow; this is the Parsonage." "It doesn't matter," cried the young man, merrily, as he jumped out of the carriage. "I say," he shouted backward towards the other carriages, "sha'n't we rest here?"
"Yes you are right I shall do so," answered Max Lintzow, with perfect composure. Next day, after the ball, when he put on his morning-coat, he found a withered violet in the button-hole. He nipped off the flower with his fingers, and drew out the stalk from beneath. "By-the-bye," he said, smiling to himself in the mirror, "I had almost forgotten her!"
"Don't you think, Miss Hartvig, that it would be better to pick the flowers just as we are starting, so that they may keep fresher?" "As you please," she answered, shortly. "Let's hope she'll forget all about it by that time," said Max Lintzow to himself, under his breath.
"What about the violets, Mr. Lintzow?" cried Miss Frederica, who had already taken her seat in the carriage. The young man had for some time been eagerly searching for the daughter of the house. He answered absently, "I'm afraid it's too late." But a thought seemed suddenly to strike him. "Oh, Mrs.
The party consisted of Consul Hartvig's children and some young friends of theirs, the picnic having been arranged in honor of Max Lintzow, a friend of the eldest son of the house, who was spending some days as the Consul's guest. "My daughter Rebecca," said the Pastor, presenting her, "who will do the best our humble house-keeping permits." "No, no, I protest, my dear Pastor," the lively Mrs.
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