As John Hardy drove up to the front of Hardy Place, the young Danish lad was struck with the beauty of the lawns and shrubberies.
"This is by far prettier than Rosendal, Herr Hardy," he said.
Mrs. Hardy had evidently been waiting some time for the sound of wheels on the carriage drive, and as her son alighted, she received him with warm natural affection.
"John, my own boy, I am so glad to see you again," she said; "you have been too long away from your mother."
"You will have me all to yourself until next May, mother, and then you will have me with you at Rosendal," said her son. "But here is Karl Lindal, son of Pastor Lindal, of Vandstrup Præstegaard, Denmark."
The tall, fair-haired lad, with his honest blue eyes, favourably impressed Mrs. Hardy, who could see beyond outward appearance and awkwardness of manner.
"Welcome to Hardy Place, Mr. Karl Lindal," she said, taking the lad's hand kindly. "You can have no better introduction here than as my own boy's friend."
Karl bowed. He saw a tall elderly lady, dressed in good taste and perfect neatness, strikingly like her son. They entered the inner hall, where Mrs. Hardy had been sitting, and tea was served, and she and her son talked to each other with that kindly confidence not so frequent nowadays. Karl looked at the old portraits on the wall, and observed the quiet taste of the decorations and furniture, with its appearance of comfort, so conspicuous in an English home.
Mother and son had much to say to each other; but at length John Hardy observed a tired look on the young Dane's face, and he took him up to the bedroom Mrs. Hardy had directed to be prepared for him, near her son's rooms.
"Karl," he said, "here is your room, and everything you are likely to want ready. If you want anything, press that nob, which rings a bell, and a man-servant will answer it; but as he may not understand you, come for a moment into my dressing-room, and I will show you where my things are, and if you want anything, take it."