r
ones on the necks of the present generation. After the coffee was
served and a certain time allowed for breathing, the daughter of the
house sat down, without being begged, at an upright piano, and attacked
the "Moonlight Sonata." This seemed to be the signal for the ladies to
bring out their work-bags.

The knitting made a pleasing accompaniment to the moonlight of the
sonata, as if pelicans were gnashing their teeth in the dimness. The
sterner sex made a dash for the various albums and literature on the
round table in the center of the room, and turned the leaves with a
gentle flutter. The sonata was finished in dead silence. As it was
performed by one of the family, no applause was necessary. I was asked
to sing; and, though I do not like to sing after dinner, I consented,
not to be disobliging. Before taking my seat on the revolving
piano-stool I looked with a severe eye at the knitting-needles. The
ladies certainly did try to make less noise, but they went on knitting,
all the same.

The flushed-with-success lawyer, wishing to show his appreciation of my
singing, leaned gracefully across the piano, and said, "_Kammerherrinde_
[that is my title], you sing as if you had a beard in your throat."

"A what?" I gasped. "A beard?"

"Yes! a beautiful beard," and added, with a conscious smile, "I sing
myself."

Good heavens! I thought, and asked, "Do you know what a beard is?"

"In Danish we call a beard a _fugle_" (pronounced _fool_.)

"Then," I said, pretending to be offended, "I sing like a fool?"

"Exactly," he said with enthusiasm, his eyes beaming with joy through
his spectacles.

This was hopeless. I moved gently away from the man who "talked
English."

The candles had burned down almost to their _bobeches_, and we were
beginning to forget that we had eaten a dinner of fifteen courses, when
in came a procession of servants with piles of plates in their arms and
trays of _smoerdroed_ (sandwiches), tea, beer (in bottles), and cakes,
which are called here _kicks_. Everything seemed very tempting except
the things handed about by the stable-boy, who was dressed for the
occasion in a livery, much too large, and was preceded and followed by
a mixed odor of stable and almond soap.

What struck me as unusual was that the host named the hour for his
guests to go home. Therefore all the carriages were before the door at
the same time.

Johan explained the mistakes on the way home.

"The man with the gray ha