To Fru Ingemann there was no more welcome news in all the world. His letter said that he longed to see her and the children once more.
Little Valdemar, who was the sculptor's godson, was wild with joy. "Let me stay home from school to-day, mother!" he implored.
"No, no, Valdemar," firmly answered his mother, as she handed him his school luncheon, a box of delicious smörrebröd.[1] When Valdemar's mother said "No, no," he knew that further protests were useless. So he kissed her and was off, calling back: "Good-bye, mother dear; keep Gudfar[2] Thor until I come home from school, please!"
All that morning Fru Ingemann flew about in happy expectancy, making more cozy the pretty little apartment. Karen could hear her mother, as she worked, singing softly those familiar old lines from Baggesen, the well-known Danish poet:
"Ah, nowhere is the rose so red,
Nowhere so small the thorn,
Nowhere so soft the downy bed
As those where we were born."
Above the patter of the rain came the sound of approaching carriage wheels. Fru Ingemann paused.
"Quick, Karen,—the bell! It may be Uncle Thor!"
And so it proved! All the eight, long, lonesome years since she had last seen this dear brother, years in which she had lost her husband, were quickly forgotten in his great hearty embrace.
"Min kaere Soster!"
"Min kaere Broder!"