Then came renewed excuses and introductions. The party consisted of Consul Hartvig’s children and some young friends of theirs, the picnic having been arranged in honor of Max Lintzow, a friend of the eldest son of the house, who was spending some days as the Consul’s guest.
“My daughter Rebecca,” said the Pastor, presenting her, “who will do the best our humble house-keeping permits.”
“No, no, I protest, my dear Pastor,” the lively Mrs. Hartvig interrupted him eagerly, “this is going too far! Even if this incorrigible Mr. Lintzow and my crazy sons have succeeded in storming your house and home, I won’t resign the last remnants of my authority. The entertainment shall most certainly be my affair. Off you go, young men,” she said, turning to her sons, “and unpack the carriages. And you, my dear child, must by all means go and amuse yourself with the young people; just leave the catering to me; I know all about that.”
And the kind-hearted woman looked with her honest gray eyes at her host’s pretty daughter, and patted her on the cheek.
How nice that felt! There was a peculiar coziness in the touch of the comfortable old lady’s soft hand. The tears almost rose to Rebecca’s eyes; she stood as if she expected that the strange lady would put her arms round her neck and whisper to her something she had long waited to hear.
But the conversation glided on. The young people, with ever-increasing glee, brought all sorts of strange parcels out of the carriages. Mrs. Hartvig threw her cloak upon a chair and set about arranging things as best she could. But the young people, always with Mr. Lintzow at their head, seemed determined to make as much confusion as possible. Even the Pastor was infected by their merriment, and to Rebecca’s unspeakable astonishment she saw her own father, in complicity with Mr. Lintzow, biding a big paper parcel under Mrs. Hartvig’s cloak.
At last the racket became too much for the old lady. “My dear Miss Rebecca,” she exclaimed, “have you not any show-place to exhibit in the neighborhood—the farther off the better—so that I might get these crazy beings off my hands for a little while?”
“There’s a lovely view from the King’s Knoll; and then there’s the beach and the sea.”
“Yes, let’s go down to the sea!” cried Max Lintzow.
“That’s just what I want,” said the old lady. “If you can relieve me of him I shall be all right, for he is the worst of them all.”