Hardy.
"The configuration of the land is adapted to form a shelter to the
beech trees, while the little lake is just in the right place to
produce a pretty effect. The landscape is, as you say, a Jutland
landscape; the grass in the meadows is coarse, and the arable land
sandy."

"You speak like a photograph, Herr Hardy," said Pastor Lindal. "But
did you not like the house and grounds?"

"The house is Danish, of a past fashion," replied Hardy, "and there is
no difference in plan from your parsonage. The stables and outhouses
are too near the house, and so is the kitchen garden; it may be
convenient, but it is not to our English taste. The grounds are not
made the best of; but this is a subject in which the climate must be
consulted. The specimen trees we use for the purpose would, many of
them, grow dwarfed, or not at all."

"I have heard much of the English taste in this respect," said the
Pastor. "I should like to see an English residence, in contrast to our
dear Rosendal."

"That you can judge of by some photographs of Hardy Place, my
residence in England," said Hardy. "I will fetch them."

He shortly after appeared with a set of four photographs, and a strong
reading-glass.

"There," said Hardy, "is the front of Hardy Place. You will observe
the arrangement of the lawn, and you will see the fineness of the
turf, which you will see nowhere else than in England. The
conservatory is to the right of the front entrance, to be sheltered
from the east wind; the house faces south. You will see by these other
photographs different views of the house and its surroundings. The
stables and gardens, for vegetables and fruit, are at some distance;
while the home farm, equivalent to your Bondegaard, is an English mile
distant. This gives greater privacy; while at Rosendal, the stables
and house and farm are practically under one roof."

"Herr Hardy would say, father, that we Danes want the refinement of
the English," said Froken Helga, who did not like the correct
criticism of a place she loved so well.

"When I asked you the name of the owner of Rosendal," said Hardy,
looking at her, "the answer I received from you might have led my
thoughts in that direction, Froken Helga."

"I gave no answer!" retorted Helga.

"Just so," said Hardy, smiling.

Helga understood him.

The Pastor and his two boys had been looking at the photographs with
much interest. "It is a Slot [a palace], and there is good taste
throughout. A