s near
midnight when he returned, and Walpurga asked: "What's the matter?"

"Grubersepp has got a colt."

Walpurga and her mother almost split their sides with laughter.

"What is there to laugh at?" asked Hansei, almost angry. "And besides,
the signs are that it'll be a white one."

They burst out laughing again, and Hansei looked amazed. He told them,
in great earnest, that Grubersepp had sent for him, so that he might
learn all about it, and he was just about to acquaint them with the
latest bit of information he had acquired: namely, that foals are never
born white. But he thought better of it; for it occurred to him that it
wouldn't do to tell the women all he knew, for they laughed so stupidly
at everything. Besides, a rich farmer ought to be on his dignity with
the women; he wouldn't forget that Grubersepp was so.

Hansei received various offers for his cottage, and was always provoked
when it was spoken of as a tumbledown old shanty. He always looked as
if he meant to say: "Don't take it ill of me, good old house; the
people only abuse you so that they may get you cheap." Hansei stood his
ground. He wouldn't sell his home for a penny less than it was worth;
and, besides that, he owned the fishing right, which was also worth
something. Grubersepp at last took the house off his hands, with the
design of putting a servant of his, who intended to marry in the fall,
in possession of the place.

All the villagers were kind and friendly to them--nay, doubly so, since
they were about to leave--and Hansei said:

"It hurts me to think that I must leave a single enemy behind me. I'd
like to make it up with the innkeeper."

Walpurga agreed with him, and said that she would go along; that she
had really been the cause of the trouble, and that if the innkeeper
wanted to scold any one, he might as well scold her, too.

Hansei did not want his wife to go along, but she insisted upon it.

It was on the last evening in August, that they went up into the
village. Their hearts beat violently while they drew near to the inn.
There was no light in the room. They groped about the porch, but not a
soul was to be seen. Dachsel and Wachsel, however, were making a
heathenish racket. Hansei called out:

"Is there no one at home?"

"No. There's no one at home," answered a voice from the dark room.

"Well, then, tell the host, when he returns, that Hansei and his wife
were here, and that they came to ask him to forgive them if