“Yes, thank you; the first galop,” she replied, with a little hesitation.
“And a polka?”
“No, no! no more,” cried the fair one, looking at Ola with alarm.
At the same moment, Hans came rushing along at full speed. “Oh, how lucky I am to find you!—but in what company!”
Thereupon he took possession of the fair one in his amiable fashion, and drew her away with him to find her wraps and join the others.
“A quadrille and a galop; but no more—so so! so so!” repeated Cousin Ola. He stood as though rooted to the spot. At last he became aware that he was alone. He hastily seized a hat, slunk out by the back way, sneaked through the garden, and clambered with great difficulty over the garden fence, not far from the gate which stood ajar.
He struck into the first foot-path through the fields, fixing his eyes upon the Parsonage chimneys. He was vaguely conscious that he was getting wet up to the knees in the long grass; but on the other hand, he was not in the least aware that the Sheriff’s old uniform cap, which he had had the luck to snatch up in his haste, was waggling about upon his head, until at last it came to rest when the long peak slipped down over his ear.
“A quadrille and a galop; but no more—so so! so so!—“—It was pretty well on in the night when Hans approached the Parsonage. He had seen the ladies of the Doctor’s party home, and was now making up the accounts of the day as he went along.
“She’s a little shy; but on the whole I don’t dislike that.”
When he left the road at the Parsonage garden, he said, “She’s dreadfully shy—almost more than I care for.”