A sparrow sat crouched together upon the dog-kennel; it drew its
head down among its feathers, blinked its eyes, and betrayed no
interest in anything. But in reality it noted carefully where the
corn was deposited. In the great sparrow-battle of the spring it
had been in the very centre of the ball, and had pecked and
screamed with the best of them. But it had sobered down since then;
it thought of its wife and children, and reflected how good it was
to have something in reserve against the winter.

--Ansgarius looked forward to the winter--to perilous expeditions
through the snow-drifts and pitch-dark evenings with thundering
breakers. He already turned to account the ice which lay on the
puddles after the frosty nights, by making all his tin soldiers,
with two brass cannons, march out upon it. Stationed upon an
overturned bucket, he watched the ice giving way, little by little,
until the whole army was immersed, and only the wheels of the
cannons remained visible. Then he shouted, "Hurrah!" and swung his
cap.

"What are you shouting about?" asked the Pastor, who happened to
pass through the farm-yard.

"I'm playing at Austerlitz!" answered Ansgarius, beaming.

The father passed on, sighing mournfully; he could not understand
his children.

--Down in the garden sat Rebecca on a bench in the sun. She looked
out over the heather, which was in purple flower, while the meadows
were putting on their autumn pallor.