"We send respectful greetings to her and to yourself.
"Helga Lindal."
John translated the letter to his mother.
"Accept it, John," she said. "My maid can be driven over by Robert Garth, the two miles you say that Rosendal is situated from the parsonage, if she would be in the way there."
"No, my mother," said Hardy; "you do not know the language. I will go to Rosendal, and you can certainly take your maid with you. Pastor Lindal knows a little English, and so does his daughter. It will be a good sign if she has been learning it in the winter; I left my Danish-English books there, but I suggested nothing to her in this direction."
"How simply to the point her letter is, John!" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy. "There are no phrases about their accommodation not being so good, or that their means are narrow; she simply says they will do their best, and that they would be glad to do it. It is not possible to doubt her."
"It is like her manner," said John. "I can fancy I hear the words she writes."
Towards the middle of May, Mrs. Hardy, her son, and two women-servants travelled overland to Jutland, from Flushing.
Robert Garth met them at the railway station, and drove them to the parsonage.
Parson Lindal was at the door, and welcomed Mrs. Hardy with much old-fashioned politeness. "Welcome, and glad to see you," he said in English to her, while he warmly greeted Hardy in Danish.