or some were leaning on their full pitchers, and some had placed them
on their heads, but all were talking of Martina.

"Martina would gladly go to the parsonage today."

"She is a strange creature. Old Roettmann offered her two thousand
guilders if she would give up all claims for her boy on his father, but
she refused at once."

"And old Schilder-David refuses also."

"Good morning, Haespele," said some one hastily; "what are your hens
doing? are they all safe and sound?"

"Is it true that you have a long-legged bird that crows in Spanish? Can
you understand him?"

This was the mode of greeting to the only man who came to the well with
a pitcher. It was Haespele. He wore a grey knitted jacket, and had a
coloured nightcap on his head, from underneath which a jovial, merry
face was seen, full of fun and good humour.

"Martina was here a few minutes ago; she is sure to come back soon,"
said one of the women, as she went away.

Haespele smiled his thanks, but was obliged to wait till all the women
had filled their pitchers, which he did willingly, and was even
goodnatured enough to help the others. Just as he had finished drawing
water for himself, Martina returned, on which they mutually assisted
each other, and walked a considerable way together, for Haespele was
obliged to pass Martina's house, in order to reach his own. So, as they
went along, Martina informed her companion that the Pastor had been
summoned on the preceding night to the Roettmaennin, and was not yet come
home. She could not resist expressing her hope, that the Pastor might
possibly succeed in softening the old woman's hard heart; but Haespele
said, "Oh, do not think so. Sooner would the wolf now prowling about
our woods come to my room and allow me to chain him up, as I do my
goat, than the fierce Roettmaennin give way. I told you already all that
occurred, when I took home a new pair of boots eight days ago to Adam,
and I gave you a message, that he would certainly come to see you
today. I myself believe the report, which is, that you intend to set
him free." Martina made no answer, but she suddenly stopped before the
door of her house, and said, "Look, here comes our Pastor home."

On the opposite side of the river, for Martina's house was on this side
of the ferry, a sledge was slowly driven along the high road. A man was
seated beside the driver, closely wrapped in a fur cloak, and a fur cap
drawn very forward over his face. The driver