At last they drove on. The road again lay up the mountain. The grandmother was quite happy and greeted every one. The plum-trees were laden with fruit, and the apple-trees along the road--she had, while yet a girl, seen them planted--had grown so large that they bent under the weight of the ruddy fruit. The grandmother often said: "I never thought it was so far; no, I meant to say, I thought it was further than this. Dear me, how I'm talking. It seems as if the world had shrunk together. Children, I tell you what, you'll live to see great, and good, and beautiful things come to pass. Come, give me the child," said she to Gundel, and she took Burgei in her arms, her face radiant with joy.
"Burgei, I've sung here, and so will you; and here I carried your mother on my arms, just as I'm carrying you, now. There! give that to the bird."
She had taken a piece of bread from her pocket and gave the child some crumbs to scatter to the birds on the way, while she, too, kept throwing crumbs to the right and the left.
She did not speak another word, but her lips moved silently.
CHAPTER XV.
As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the white foal.
"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.
The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her hymn-book out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast with both hands, she went into the house, being the first to enter. Hansei, who was standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk from his pocket and wrote the letters C. M. B., and the date, on the stable-door. Then he, too, went into the house, his wife, Irma and the child following him.
Before going into the sitting-room, the grandmother knocked thrice at the door. When she had entered, she placed the open hymn-book upon the open window-sill, so that the sun might read in it. There were no tables or chairs in the room.
Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you, freeholder's wife."