“Go away,” said Cavallius, shaking his little stumpy hand threateningly towards us. “Go away, ladies; I will not endure this, on my honor I will not. Go!”
Just think, he called us “ladies”! We ducked down behind the window in silent laughter, then we peeped out again. Cavallius kept on threatening us.
“Go, I say!” We ducked down but popped up again the next instant. Cavallius grew more and more angry. We kept popping down and up and laughing continually, but go away we would not, you may be sure.
At last Barbara’s picture was ready.
“Well, my girl,” said Cavallius, “it isn’t my fault that you look like a lion-tamer in your picture.”
“What is it I look like?” asked Barbara. “It’s your fault if it’s a horrid picture.”
“That’s right, Barbara,” called Massa. “Scowl at him. Of course it is his fault.”
“Go away!” roared Cavallius up at us.
Barbara drew backward towards the door and bumped into old Mrs. Huus who was just coming in to be photographed. Mrs. Huus wore a brown silk dress, gold brooch, gold chain, gold bracelets, and some quivering golden ornaments in her hair. People in the town said that Mrs. Huus stuffed cotton into her cheeks to fill them out so as to look younger. I don’t know whether this is true or not, but Mrs. Huus certainly does speak as if her mouth were full.
Cavallius conducted her most respectfully to a chair, but as he went, he shook his fist threateningly again up towards us in the barn window. Mrs. Huus did not see us, but I noticed that she cast a frightened glance at Cavallius as he shook his fist in the air.