The ladies sat in the big parlor, drank coffee and talked old-granny fashion about every possible kind of sickness; so I knew it would be much pleasanter in the sitting-room with Uncle and the sailors and the three teachers. I had just sat down in there to listen to them when Aunt Magda came and asked me to go and amuse the strange little boys.
Karsten and the oldest boy were out on the front steps.
“Have you good muscle in your arms?” asked Karsten.
“No, I don’t think so,” answered the strange boy.
“Look here,—here you can see”—Karsten stretched out his arm. “That’s the way an arm should be, the muscle standing up in a curve; feel of this and you’ll know what muscle is.”
The boy felt of Karsten’s arm.
“You feel of it, too,” said Karsten to the two smaller boys. “Exactly like lignum vitæ, and lignum vitæ is the hardest thing in the world.”
All the boys admired Karsten’s muscle tremendously, that was easy to see.
It still rained steadily, so I suggested that we go into the inner hall. Oh, that dear old Parsonage hall, where there was always a smell of old cheese and such things. Yes, the front hall smelled of rose-leaves, but the inner hall of old cheese. In the front hall, we bowed and curtsied nicely and were well-behaved; but in the other hall we played and romped and had great fun.
For the moment, I couldn’t think of anything to do there but slide down the banisters. You know what jolly fun that is, sliding so frightfully fast, especially where the banister curves. I went ahead up the stairs, the four boys after me, away up to the attic, then whizz! down the banisters! The whole troop tramped up the stairs again, whizz! down again. My! this was getting to be great fun—there stood Great-Aunt at the door.