or other would call, if only as they were passing. He
frequently looked toward the door; but it did not open, and no one
came.

Finally, when evening drew near, he went out of doors.

CHAPTER XLIII.

Only a few months ago a strong man had crossed this threshold. He was
now changed, and the world was changed, particularly his own household.
During his absence he had constantly thought how merry it was at home.
And yet there was nothing merrier there than quiet, uninterrupted work;
and he himself had always been a stern, morose man, before whom every
one in the house, save Thoma, trembled. To be sure Thoma had always
been light-hearted, and perhaps that was why he thought the whole
household merry.

With downcast gaze Landolin went up the road. His present frame of mind
was the most injurious a man could be in, and highly improper for a
farmer. He was irritable, and, as is always the case with irritable
people, he was weak and helpless, and trusted to external causes to
bring him new energy and incitement.

As he raised his eyes he saw, at some distance, a woman with a red
kerchief approaching him. Is that "Cushion-Kate?" Should he turn back?

He called the dog nearer to him; but it was not "Cushion-Kate;" it was
a stranger.

See! There comes the "Galloping-Cooper." He was walking faster than
usual, and as he hurried by he said "Good evening" carelessly, and
without waiting for a response. Landolin stood still, looked back after
him, and shrugged his shoulders contemptuously at the beggarly man, who
once, if he wanted to borrow a log of wood for barrel staves, could not
find submissive words enough. "Not another chip shall you have from
me," said Landolin to himself as he walked on. He had now reached the
bailiff's farm. The watch-dog rushed out at Racker; but as soon as he
saw the spiked collar he fled. Racker started in pursuit of the coward;
but Landolin called him back. The bailiff, who was sitting astride a
block of wood, mending a scythe, must certainly have heard him, but he
did not look up; and not until Landolin stood in front of him and
spoke, did he stop hammering. Then, running his fingers along the edge
of the scythe, to see if there were any notches left, he said:

"Back again, eh?"

"As you see. Down! Racker." The dog had been standing perfectly still
beside him; and it seemed as though he visited upon the dog a fit of
anger which something else had provoked.