to Vandstrup
Praestegaard.

The next day the Pastor had received the _Jyllands Post_, the local
newspaper. When Hardy appeared at the breakfast table, he said,
"Rosendal is sold to Prokurator Steindal of Copenhagen, and it is
extra-ordinary that I have received a letter from him to say that I
and my family have leave to visit Rosendal when we wish to do so, and
that my two sons, Karl and Axel, have leave to catch all the pike in
Rosendal lake. There is the usual notice of the sale in the _Jyllands
Post_, and from the letter from Steindal, it must be true."

"I have no doubt of its truth," said Hardy. "I would only suggest that
we at once went to fish for the pike at Rosendal lake; my servant can
bring the carriage, and I can ride my English horse, so that Froken
Helga can enjoy another visit to Rosendal."

"But," said the Pastor, "the permission to fish does not extend to
you, Herr Hardy."

"That may be," said Hardy, "but that is no reason why my advice should
not be rendered as to how to catch the pike."

Robert Garth brought the carriage and drove, and Hardy rode his horse
Buffalo. The weather was pleasant, and the drive was enjoyable.

When they came to Rosendal, the respectful demeanour of the bailiff
towards Hardy struck the Pastor. Hardy placed his forefinger across
his lips. The bailiff told Hardy that if they wished to have lunch in
the mansion they could do so, after a walk in the beechwoods and by
the lake and rosary.

"The boys are so intent on the pike fishing," said Hardy, "that I will
go with them. We shall try and catch a pike, and send it up to the
bailiff's wife to be baked, and will then leave our lines and join
you."

"But, Herr Hardy, you have no permission to fish; it only extends to
Karl and Axel," said the Pastor, with some firmness.

"Then I think I must leave the boys to their own devices," said Hardy;
"but I fear no pike will appear for our lunch."

"It is better so than we should trespass on a stranger's kindness,"
said the Pastor.

So Hardy walked with the Pastor and his daughter through the
beechwoods and by the lake.

"I think now in the summer-time, with the beech trees in full leaf,
and the reeds by the lake, and the grass in the meadows in full
growth, that Rosendal is nearly at its best," said Froken Helga.

"It has its beauty always," said her father. "I have seen it in
spring, and in summer, and in autumn, and in winter; it has a charm of
its own. It appeals to us w