"You are a stupid child! Go and offer him your hand immediately!" commanded Farmer Rodel. And then he said to the stranger, half in a whisper: "She's a strange child. Black Marianne, who, you know, is a peculiar sort of person, has put all sorts of odd notions into her head."
Amrei looked around in astonishment, and gave her hand to her uncle, trembling. Damie, who had done so already, now said:
"Uncle, have you brought us anything?"
"I haven't much to bring. I bring myself, and you're to go with me. Do you know, Amrei, that it's not at all right for you not to like your uncle. You'd better come here and sit down beside me—nearer still. You see, your brother Damie is much more sensible. He looks more like our family, but you belong to us too."
A maid now came in with some man's clothing, which she laid on the table.
"These are your brother's clothes," said Farmer Rodel to the stranger; and the latter went on to say to Amrei:
"As you see, these are your father's clothes. We shall take them with us, and you shall go too—first to Fluorn, and then across the brook."
Amrei, trembling, touched her father's coat and his blue-striped vest. But the uncle lifted up the clothes, pointed to the worn-out elbows, and said to Farmer Rodel:
"These are worth very little—I won't have them valued at much. I don't even know if I can wear them over in America, without being laughed at."
Amrei seized the coat passionately. That her father's coat, which she had looked upon as a costly and invaluable treasure, should be pronounced of little value, seemed to grieve her, and that these clothes were to be worn in America, and ridiculed there, almost bewildered her. And, anyway, what was the meaning of this talk about America? This mystery was soon cleared up, when Farmer Rodel's wife came, and with her, Black Marianne; for Dame Rodel said: