But gradually she began to feel at her ease among these
good-natured, kindly people; the youngest Miss Hartvig even put
her arm around her waist as they walked. And then Rebecca, too,
thawed; she joined in their laughter, and said what she had to say
as easily and freely as any of the others. It never occurred to her
to notice that the young men, and especially Mr. Lintzow, were
chiefly taken up with her; and the little pointed speeches which
this circumstance called forth from time to time were as
meaningless for her as much of the rest of the conversation.

They amused themselves for some time with running down the shelving
beach every time the wave receded, and then rushing up again when
the next wave came. And great was the glee when one of the young
men was overtaken, or when a larger wave than usual sent its fringe
of foam right over the slope, and forced the merry party to beat a
precipitate retreat.

"Look! Mamma's afraid that we shall be too late for the ball,"
cried Miss Hartvig, suddenly; and they now discovered that the
Consul and Mrs. Hartvig and the Pastor were standing like three
windmills on the Parsonage hill, waving with pocket handkerchiefs
and napkins.

They turned their faces homeward. Rebecca took them by a short cut
over the morass, not reflecting that the ladies from the town could
not jump from tuft to tuft as she could. Miss Frederica, in her
tight skirt, jumped short, and stumbled into a muddy hole. She
shrieked and cried piteously for help, with her eyes fixed upon
Lintzow.