o ill-will and spite.

Hansei and Walpurga were almost boycotted; but their isolation made them
draw closer together, work harder, and enjoy to the fullest the harmony
of their domestic life. Moreover, the freehold farmer, Grubersepp, who
was a personage in the district, and had never before deigned to take
much notice of Hansei, now called at the cottage and offered his advice
on many questions. When on a Sunday the village doctor and the priest
were seen to visit the cottage, opinion began to veer around once more
in the good people's favour.

It was Walpurga's old uncle Peter, a poor pitch-burner, who was known in
the district as the "pitch-mannikin," who brought the first news that
the freehold farm, where Walpurga's mother had in her young days served
as a maid, was for sale at a very low price for ready money. It was six
hours from the lake, in the mountains--splendid soil, fine forest,
everything perfect. Hansei decided to have a look at it, and Grubersepp
went with him to value it. The uncle's description was found to be
highly coloured; but after some bargaining the purchase was effected,
and soon the news was bruited about the village that Hansei had paid "in
clinking golden coin."

The whole village, with a brass band, was assembled on the shore when
Hansei and Walpurga, with their family and worldly possessions, embarked
to cross the lake on the first stage of their "flitting." All vexations
were forgotten in the hearty send-off, and as the boat glided across the
silent lake it was followed by music, cheering, jodling, and the booming
of mortars.

They approached the opposite shore and Hansei pointed out the figure of
Uncle Peter waiting for them with the cart and the furniture, when
Walpurga suddenly ceased rowing, and gave a startled cry.

"Heavens! What's that? I could swear, when I was singing I thought if
only my good Countess Irma could see us here together, how happy she
would be. And just now it seemed to me as though----"

"Come on, let's land," said Hansei.

On the shore a figure in a fluttering garment was running up and down.
It suddenly collapsed when the wind carried a full sound of music across
the lake. Then it rose again, and vanished in the reeds.

"Have you seen nothing?" asked Walpurga.

"Rather! If it were not broad daylight, and if it were not superstition,
I should think it was the mermaid, herself."

The boat at last touched the shore. Walpurga was the first to jump out.
S