“I suppose so,” said Arla, with a sigh; “but it really is a great pity that every striking-clock in Rondaine should be wrong!”
“But how do you know they are all wrong?” asked the superintendent.
“Oh, that is easy enough,” said Arla. “When I lie awake in the early morning, when all else is very still, I listen to their striking, and then I look at my own rose-clock to see what time it really is.”
“Your rose-clock?” said the superintendent.
“This is it,” said Arla, opening her basket and taking out her little clock.
The superintendent took it into his hands and looked at it attentively, both outside and inside. And then, still holding it, he stepped out into the court-yard. When in a few moments he returned, he said:
“I have compared your clock with my sun-dial, and find that it is ten minutes slow. I also see that, like the donkey-clock, its works are not adjusted in such a way as to be unaffected by heat and cold.”
“My—clock—ten—minutes—slow!” exclaimed Arla, with wide-open eyes.
“Yes,” said the superintendent, “that is the case to-day, and on some days it is, probably, a great deal too fast. Such a clock as this—which is a very ingenious and beautiful one—ought frequently to be compared with a sun-dial or other correct time-keeper, and set to the proper hour. I see it requires a peculiar key with which to set it. Have you brought this with you?”
“No, sir,” said Arla; “I did not suppose it would be needed.”