And the kind-hearted woman looked with her honest gray eyes at her
host's pretty daughter, and patted her on the cheek.

How nice that felt! There was a peculiar coziness in the touch of
the comfortable old lady's soft hand. The tears almost rose to
Rebecca's eyes; she stood as if she expected that the strange lady
would put her arms round her neck and whisper to her something she
had long waited to hear.

But the conversation glided on. The young people, with
ever-increasing glee, brought all sorts of strange parcels out
of the carriages. Mrs. Hartvig threw her cloak upon a chair and set
about arranging things as best she could. But the young people,
always with Mr. Lintzow at their head, seemed determined to make as
much confusion as possible. Even the Pastor was infected by their
merriment, and to Rebecca's unspeakable astonishment she saw her
own father, in complicity with Mr. Lintzow, biding a big paper
parcel under Mrs. Hartvig's cloak.

At last the racket became too much for the old lady. "My dear Miss
Rebecca," she exclaimed, "have you not any show-place to exhibit in
the neighborhood--the farther off the better--so that I might get
these crazy beings off my hands for a little while?"

"There's a lovely view from the King's Knoll; and then there's the
beach and the sea."

"Yes, let's go down to the sea!" cried Max Lintzow.