"
* * * * *
The songs of the birds of the valley were more melodious than ever
before, the perfume of the roses and lilacs were sweeter than formerly,
at least so thought the occupants of the little cottage when Gottlieb
visited them that afternoon. Certainly, however, the feast which was
given on that day had never been equalled before, except perhaps on the
day of the arrival of Ragnar after a long absence from his wife and
home.
It was a splendid dinner--roasted spare ribs, and fish, and cakes. The
old man occupied the seat at the head of the table. Gottlieb, who had
provided this repast from the money he had received from his uncle for
travelling expenses, was seated beside Nanna. The children ate so
rapidly and heartily that it appeared as though they intended to swallow
a sufficient supply to last them for a year to come. Carl, wearing his
Sunday vest, a vest that Magde had made, and with a rose in his jacket
button-hole, a rose that Magde had plucked, was seated in his usual
place at the table, cheerful and contented.
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