on the threshold, for at first he could see nothing but a dense smoke,
through which a yellow speck of light appeared, with a great halo round
it. Gradually he discovered in this smoke a few rotund forms, placed
around the candle like so many planets around the sun, and at times
something was seen to move, possibly a man's arm, but not unlike an
elephant's leg. At length the air through the open door partially
cleared away the smoke, and he could see farther into the room. Six
giants sat around the table--three on a bench, three on oaken chairs.
All had cigars in their mouths, and wooden beer-mugs on the table, and
the loud hum was their speech, duly lowered to suit a sick-room.

"I smell something," cried a loud voice, at length; "there must be a man
there. I feel a cool draught; the door is open. Let whoever is there say
who he is."

"Mr. Sturm," cried Anton, still on the threshold.

The great globes rapidly revolved and eclipsed the light.

"Do you hear?" cried the loud voice; "a man is there."

"Yes, and an old friend too," replied Anton.

"I know that voice," exclaimed some one at the other side of the table.

Anton drew nearer; the porters all rose and called out his name.

Father Sturm moved along to the farthest end of his bench, and held out
both his hands. "I heard from my comrades that you had returned. It is a
joy to me that you are come safe and sound from that outlandish
country."

Anton's hand now passed first into that of old Sturm, who powerfully
grasped it, and then tried to set the broken bones; next into that of
the other five porters, whence it came out red, weak, and slightly
dislocated, so that he was glad to put it into his coat pocket. While
the five were exchanging greetings with him, one after the other, Sturm
suddenly called out, "When does my Karl come?"

"Have you sent for him, then?" asked Anton.

"Sent for him! No," returned Sturm, shaking his head, "that I could not
do, because of his situation as bailiff; for if I were to write him word
'come,' he would come if even a million scythes lay in his way. But then
the family might want him, and therefore, unless he comes of his own
accord, he will not come."

"He will come in the spring," said Anton, looking anxiously into the
father's face.

Old Sturm shook his head. "He will not come in the spring--not to me, at
least. Perhaps my little manikin may come here, but not to his father
any more." He raised his can of beer and took