“Is He thy Saviour, little one?” asked Gerhardt.
“I don’t know what you mean,” was the answer.
“O Derette! you know well enough that our Lord is called the Saviour!” corrected her sister in rather a shocked tone.
“I know that, but I don’t know what it means,” persisted the child sturdily.
“Come, be quiet!” said her mother. “I never did see such a child for wanting to get to the bottom of things.—Well, Romund! Folks that want supper should come in time for it. All’s done and put by now.”
“I have had my supper at the Lodge,” responded a tall young man of twenty-two, who had just entered. “Who are those people?”
His mother gave the required explanation. Romund looked rather doubtfully at the guests. Gerhardt, seeing that this was the master of the house, at least under present circumstances, rose, and respectfully raising his cap, apologised for their presence.
“What can you do?” inquired Romund shortly.
“My trade is weaving,” replied Gerhardt, “but I can stack wood or cut it, put up shelves, milk cows, or attend to a garden. I shall be glad to do any thing in my power.”
“You may nail up the vine over the back door,” said Romund, “and I dare say my mother can find you some shelves and hooks to put up. The women can cook and sew. You may stay for a few days, at any rate.”