ALL this weighed on the good mother's mind, and when she reflected that Uli and Freneli would both leave besides, that her son-in-law would then get the reins wholly into his hands, that she would have to run the house on nothing, be stingy to the poor, and be held accountable for every cup of flour and for every cake she baked, such a feeling of misery came over her that she had to sit down and cry, shedding tears enough to wash her hands in, until even Joggeli came out and told her not to cry so—that everybody would hear her and would wonder what was the matter.
What he had said, she answered, didn't amount to anything; she knew that he had to talk at times. And Freneli also comforted her, telling her not to take it so hard; things always turned out better than one expected. But she shook her head and bade them let her alone; she would have to compose herself—talking was no use. For many days following she sought composure. They saw her going about silently as if she were revolving grave things in her mind, or sitting apart now and then when she thought herself unnoticed, her hands in her lap, and picking up from time to time the tip of her apron and wiping her eyes with the wrong side of it. Finally her spirits became lighter; the state of uncertainty seemed to leave her; she said she felt much better, but she thought she'd like to go away somewhere; she had such an unsatisfied longing, and she believed she'd get over it if she could get away for a day or two. This time Joggeli had no objection; his old wife had made even him anxious. She could go either to her son or her daughter, whichever she wished! Uli would drive her, for he had plenty of time now, said he.
No, she didn't want to go there, she said; there was everlasting quarreling there, and even if she filled her pockets with thalers, she wouldn't have enough. She thought she'd like to visit cousin Johannes; they had long promised him a visit, but hadn't kept the promise and she had never been there. She would see a new road and an unfamiliar country, and could perhaps best forget what was grieving her. She wanted to take Freneli along; she too hadn't been away for a long time. They hadn't taken her with them to Elsie's wedding, and it was only fair to give the girl a pleasure once in a while.
To the latter plan Joggeli had many objections; but this time he gave in for his old wife's sake and agreed to get along for a couple of days. In a glory of color the withered leaves hung on the trees, in the gleam of their own after-glow; below them, in cheerful green, lay the young crops, and played merrily with the winking dew-drops that clung to their tips; and over everything the sky spread itself, mysterious and fragrant, the impenetrable source of God's wonders. Black crows were flying across the fields; green woodpeckers hung on the trees; fleet squirrels ran across the road and, hastily gaining a branch, peeped out curiously at the passing travelers, while high in the air the snow-geese sailed on toward a, warmer country in their well-ordered triangle, and their strange travel-song floated strangely down from their lofty height.
The mother's judicious eyes roved actively over the whole scene; there was no end to her comments, and she and Uli exchanged many a shrewd remark. Especially when they drove through the villages did the noteworthy things become legion, and there were few houses that did not offer her opportunity for comment. To sit at home all the time was no use, said she; one always kept seeing the same things. One ought to drive around the country from time to time; then one could not merely gratify his curiosity, but learn a lot too. Folks didn't do things everywhere alike, and in some places they did better than in others, and so one could always pick and choose the best. They had not driven much more than, two hours when she began to suggest that they must give Blackie something to eat. He was not used to running so long, and they must bring him home in good condition. "You stop at the next public-house," she said in response to Uli's objections, "and see if he won't eat a measure of oats. I'd just as soon have something myself; I'm actually beginning to be cold."
Arrived there, she said to Uli, "When the horse has his oats, come in." In the doorway she again turned around and cried, "Do you hear? Come in then." After the hostess having wiped off the benches in the tavern with her apron, had asked, "What can I bring you?" and a good bottle and some tea had been ordered, the women sat down, looked around the room, made their comments in a low voice, and wondered that it was no later by this clock. But Uli had probably driven fast; one could see that he had been in a hurry to get there. When finally the order was brought with the excuse that it had taken a long time because the water had not been hot and the wood had refused to burn, the mother told Freneli to call Uli; she didn't see why he didn't come; she had told him twice. When he had come and had drunk their health sufficiently, the hostess tried to begin a conversation, saying that another wedding party had stopped in there today. The mother laughed out heartily, and Uli was amused too; but Freneli grew red and angry and remarked that not all the parties on the road today were wedding parties; that other folks, she supposed, had the right to go driving on Saturday, too; the road wasn't reserved for wedding parties.—She shouldn't get so angry, said the hostess; she didn't know her, but it seemed to her that the young folks were just right for each other; she hadn't seen such a handsome couple for a long time. The mother appeased the hostess, saying that she needn't excuse herself so much; they had had a great laugh about it at home, and had thought that's the way it would be, and then too the girl had got so angry.
"It's not nice of you, auntie, to help torment me," said Freneli; "if I had known this I shouldn't have come along."
"Why, nobody's tormenting you," said her aunt laughing. "Don't be so silly; many a girl would be tickled to be taken for a bride."
"That doesn't tickle me," said Freneli, "and if I'm not let alone, I'll go home this minute."
"Why, you can't tie up people's mouths, and you ought to be glad that they haven't anything worse to say about you," answered her aunt.