My brother said we must make our way behind a hedge, and bade me hold our dog's mouth lest he should bark when the others passed.
The pitchforked guards passed near the cart, and advanced before us too. I heard how the one said to the other:
"Faith, that is the reason this cursed wind is blowing so furiously!"
"That" was the reason! What was the reason?
As they passed, my brother took my hand and said: "Now let us hasten, that we may be home before the wagon."
Therewith he ran with me across a long cottage-court, lifted me over a hedge, climbing after me himself; then through two or three more strange gardens, everywhere stepping over the hedges; and at last we reached our own garden.
But, in Heaven's name, had we committed some sin, that we ran thus, skulking from hiding-place to hiding-place?
As we reached the courtyard, the wagon was just entering. Three retainers waited for it in the yard, and immediately closed the gate after it.
Grandmother stood outside on the terrace and kissed us when we arrived.
Again there followed a short whispering between my brother and the domestics; whereupon the latter seized pitchforks and began to toss down the hay from the wain.