little pitchman was quite
entertaining. When he had nothing more to say, he would gather
strawberries, which grew by the wayside and, in this high region, did
not ripen until late. He laid them on a hazel leaf and offered them to
Irma. Yes, Peter has good manners; he could tell that by his sister's
face, for she smiled her approval.

The journey to their new home proceeded without further adventure. When
they came in sight of their native village, and before they had had
reached the boundary line, the grandmother requested them to stop. She
alighted, went into the woods, knelt down until her face touched the
ground, and exclaimed:

"God be praised, I'm with thee again! Keep me well, let me and mine
pass many peaceful, happy days on thee, and, when my last hour comes,
receive me kindly."

She went back to the wagon, and said: "God be with you all! now we're
at home. Do you see that house up there, with the big linden tree?
That's the freehold farm, where we're to live."

Gundel and the child alighted, Irma alone remaining in the wagon. All
the others walked the rest of the way.

They passed through the valley and reached the village, where they were
still an hour's walk from the farm. As they entered the village, the
little pitchman cracked his whip loudly. He wanted every one to see his
kindred, and the amount of property he was now moving with. They passed
by a little cottage.

"I was born there"; said the grandmother to Hansei.

"I'll take off my hat to that house," replied Hansei, suiting his
action to the word.

The wagons which had preceded them were stopping at the inn which was
near the town hall and the church. The people had gathered there to get
a look at the new freeholder and his family. The little pitchman acted
as master of ceremonies, and pointed out the burgomaster's wife to
Walpurga. Walpurga went up to her, and Beate felt truly happy, for the
mother of the burgomaster's wife, she in whose house Beate, while yet
in her school-days, had served as nursemaid, was also there. She
inquired for the boy whom she had then taken care of. "He's dead," they
said, "but there's his son." A stalwart lad was called, but when Beate
told him that she had taken care of his father while he was yet a
little child, he had not a word to say.

Half the village had gathered about the new arrivals, and they remained
there chatting for a long while.

Irma lay there in the wagon in the open market-place, forgotten b