Dami was very unwilling to show himself in the village; he shrank from the ridicule which would break out on every side. He wished to remain concealed. But Barefoot said, “Come, go with me through the village on this bright Sunday afternoon, and let them have their laugh out. Let them talk, and point, and laugh—then it will be all over; you will have swallowed the bitter dose at once, and not drop by drop.”
After long and violent opposition, and when the silent Mathew had joined his persuasions with Amrie’s, Dami consented to go; and, in fact, coarse jokes rained from every side upon “Barefoot’s Dami,” who, they said, “had taken a pleasure voyage to America at the expense of the parish.” Mariann, alone, received him in a friendly manner; and at the second word, asked him, “Hast thou heard any thing of my John?”
In the evening Barefoot brought the barber, who took off his wild beard, and gave him the smooth face customary in that place.
Early the next morning Dami was summoned to appear in the Public Hall, and as he trembled, he knew not why, Amrie promised to follow him there, although she could not much help him.
The Council gave him notice, that he was expelled from the place. He had no right to remain longer where he might become a burthen. How astonished were the councillors, when Barefoot arose and said, “Yes, well! you may expel him, but when? When you can go out to your churchyard, where our father and our mother lie, and say to their buried bones, ‘Arise, and go forth with your child.’ Then you may expel him. You cannot turn a child away from the place where his parents are buried. There he is more than at home. If it is written a thousand and a thousand times in your books,” pointing to the bound Registers upon the table, “it cannot happen; you cannot do it.”
One of the Council whispered to the schoolmaster,—“Barefoot has learnt this from dark Mariann;” and the Sacristan nodded to the Mayor, and said, “Why do you suffer this? Ring for the policeman, and send her to the madhouse.”
But the Mayor only smiled, and explained to Barefoot, that the community had bought itself free from all expense for Dami, by paying the greater part of the passage-money for his voyage to America.
“Yes,” said Barefoot. “But where is he then at home?”
“Where they will take him; but not here. And for the present nowhere.”
“Nowhere have I a home!” said Dami. He was almost pleased to be always and still more unfortunate. Now no one could deny that he was the most unhappy man in the world. Barefoot would have striven longer, but she saw that it would be of no use. The law was against her. She declared she would work the nails off her fingers, rather than receive any thing for her brother or herself from the Parish. And she promised to pay back what Dami had already received.