Without knowing how he had come there, he found himself suddenly in front of his mistress's dwelling.
Light shimmered in her windows—the raspberry coloured light of red curtains which loose women delight in.
"Pah!" he said and shuddered.
But, after all, up there a supper table was set for him; there was laughter and society, warmth and a pair of slippers.
He opened the gate.
A chill wind rattled in the twigs of the trees and blew the dead leaves about in conical whirls. They fluttered along like wandering shadows, only to end in some puddle …
Autumn …
MERRY FOLK
The Christmas tree bent heavily forward. The side which was turned to the wall had been hard to reach, and had hence not been adorned richly enough to keep the equilibrium of the tree against the weighty twigs of the front.
Papa noted this and scolded. "What would Mamma say if she saw that? You know, Brigitta, that Mamma doesn't love carelessness. If the tree falls over, think how ashamed we shall be."