a
little hump-backed man, with thin legs and an old face, approached. He
was dressed as a peasant, and bore upon his back a little knapsack of
red calfskin, the hairy side turned outward: in this he carried his
violin.

"Is he called Dickie?" asked Otto.

"No, that is only a joke of Sophie's," pursued Wilhelm; "she must always
make suitable people romantic. He is called commonly 'Musikanti.' The
inhabitant of Funen Italianizes most names; otherwise he is called Peter
Cripple."

"You will hear his tones," said Sophie. "The day after to-morrow, when
we have the mowing-feast, he will he number one. He understands
music with which you are scarcely acquainted; he will play you the
'Shoemaker's Dance' as well as 'Cherry-soup:' such dances as these have
people here in the country."

"We are now beyond my lands, and upon our neighbor's," said the old
lady. "You will see a thorough old mansion."

"Now, I should like to know how the inhabitants will please Mr.
Thostrup," said Sophie. "The Kammerjunker you know; he is an excellent
country gentleman. His sister, on the contrary, is a little peculiar:
she belongs to that class of people who always, even wily the best
intentions, say unpleasant things. She has for this quite a rare
talent--you will soon experience this; but she does not intend anything
so bad. She can also joke! Thank God that you will not remain there
over night, otherwise you would experience what she and the Mamsell can
invent!"

"Yes, the Mamsell is my friend!" said Wilhelm. "You will see her
work-box with all the curiosities. That little box plays a great part:
it is always taken out with her when she pays a visit--for the sake of
conversation it is brought out; all is then looked through, and every
article goes the round of the company. Yes, there are beautiful things
to be seen: a little wheelbarrow with a pincushion, a silver fish, and
the little yard-measure of silk ribbon."

"Yes, and the amber heart!" said Sophie; "the little Napoleon of cast
iron, and the officer who is pasted fast to the bottom of the box: that
is a good friend in Odense, she lately told to me in confidence."

"See what beautiful stone fences the Kammerjunker has made!" said the
mother. "And how beautifully the cherry-trees grow! He is an industrious
man!"

They approached the garden. It was laid out in the old French style,
with straight walks, pyramids of box, and white painted stone figures:
satyrs and goddesses peeped th