and hardly able to
follow, though she clung to the tall officer's arm. But in front of
the pair, just behind the coffin itself, walked a tall man in splendid
uniform, with gold epaulettes, plumed hat, and sword, bearing a cushion
with two jewelled stars. And the long, long train of mourners moved
slowly, gently on, and there--there by the grave, stood the priest,
holding a spade.

Peer was anxious to hear what the priest would have to say about his
father. Involuntarily he stole a little nearer, though he felt somehow
that it would not do to come too close.

A hymn was sung at the graveside, the band accompanying. Peer took off
his cap. He was too taken up to notice that one of the mourners was
watching him intently, and presently left the group and came towards
him. The man wore spectacles, and a shiny tall hat, and it was not until
he began to sneeze that Peer recognised him. It was the schoolmaster,
glaring at him now with a face so full of horror and fury that the
spectacles almost seemed to be spitting fire.

"You--you--Are you mad?" he whispered in Peer's face, clenching his
black gloved hands. "What are you doing here? Do you want to cause a
catastrophe to-day of all days? Go--get away at once, do you hear me?
Go! For heaven's sake, get away from here before any one sees." Peer
turned and fled, hearing behind him as he went a threatening "If ever
you dare--again--," while the voices and the band, swelling higher in
the hymn, seemed to strike him in the back and drive him on.

He was far down in the town before he could stop and pull himself
together. One thing was clear--after this he could never face that
schoolmaster again. All was lost. Could he even be sure that what he had
done wasn't so frightfully wrong that he would have to go to prison for
it?

Next day the Troen folk were sitting at their dinner when the eldest son
looked out of the window and said: "There's Peer coming."

"Mercy on us!" cried the good-wife, as he came in. "What is the matter,
Peer? Are you ill?"

Ah, it was good that night to creep in under the old familiar skin-rug
once more. And the old mother sat on the bedside and talked to him
of the Lord, by way of comfort. Peer clenched his hands under the
clothes--somehow he thought now of the Lord as a sort of schoolmaster
in a dressing-gown. Yet it was some comfort all the same to have the old
soul sit there and talk to him.

Peer had much to put up with in the days that followed--m