THE night passed quietly enough. Perhaps the old pastor's fears were groundless, and Freskel's brothers either had given up the idea of getting hold of the bag of coin, or suspected nothing of its change of quarters.
With the morning light came a sense of security, and the children were ready to laugh at their fears of the night before.
After their early meal of bread and goat's milk, they resolved to go and spend the day out of doors, taking dinner with them.
The time must pass slowly enough while their father was away from them; and the weather to-day was so fine that it seemed a pity for them to stay at home, when they had really nothing much to do.
So Blonda put up some dinner in a little basket, and Tonie took his fishing tackle, and carefully locking both doors of the house, they set out for a long day by the lake side.
On the shore, not far from the cottage, was a natural grotto formed by four great boulders of Finnish granite, which were so disposed as to make three rough walls and a roof, so that there was shelter within from sun and rain, and from wind too, unless this blew directly across the lake from the eastward, towards which the grotto was open, facing the rising sun.
In this pleasant resort the children established themselves. Blonda took out her knitting, while Tonie began to arrange his fishing tackle, and bait his hooks before embarking on the raft which Grubert had constructed from trunks of pine, and which served the children instead of a boat whenever they wanted to fish in deep water across the lake.
"The poor, dear pastor! How weary he looked and anxious too, last night!" said Blonda. "His sweet old face was quite white and drawn; didst thou remark it, Tonie?"
"Yes, surely," replied the boy; "and yet, Blonda, it may be that his fears were altogether groundless, after all. Freskel is but half-witted, and it is not impossible that he is mistaken, and that his brothers knew nothing of the bag, or even if they knew, perhaps they had no thought of so wickedly robbing the pastor of what his friend had entrusted to his care."
"I know not," rejoined Blonda thoughtfully, as she picked up a dropped stitch in her knitting. "But Freskel Valden—half-witted though he be—is, it seems to me, clear enough of vision and true of understanding in all matters which concern Pastor Oshart. Who knows, Tonie, whether such great love as his for our good minister may not make him wise, even as the very beasts and birds of the forest are wise through love, and cunning in their watchfulness over those for whom they care!"