P. S. My dears, you must be sure to praise this book a little, also, or else I shall be horribly embarrassed and mortified before Massa, Mina, and Peter, and the others.
I. J.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] “What Happened to Inger Johanne.”
II
AT THE PARSONAGE
The boat bumped and scraped against the wharf. We had arrived. Hurrah!
The instant Karsten set foot on the wharf, he was off and away at full speed up the hill, and swinging into the avenue that led to the Parsonage.
On my way up, I happened to think of some strawberry patches I had known the summer before, and I simply had to go a little aside on the hill to look at them. Yes, there they were, with specks of red shining out between the leaves and stones. Good!
But now I could see Aunt Magda’s garden hat at the end of the avenue and I must hurry, for she would be wondering what had become of me. I began to run, and soon sprang into her open arms. I put both my arms around her and squeezed her frightfully hard till she shrieked. I always do that with any one I like awfully well, you see.
On the Parsonage steps sat Uncle’s friend, the queer old lawyer, Mr. Witt, with his mass of bristling white hair and his sharp eyes.