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in honor of the day, though there was no wind to
fill them, and every mast was crowned for the
midsummer fête.
Along the many roads leading to Bro, the church
folk were gathering, the women looking very stately
in their light, hand-woven summer dresses finished
in readiness for that day. All were dressed for the
midsummer fête.
They could not cease rejoicing over the peace
of the day and the rest from their every-day work,
at the summer’s warmth and the promising harvest,
and the strawberries that grew red by the
roadside. They remarked upon the stillness of the
air, the cloudless sky, and the singing of the
skylarks, and said, “It is evident this is the Lord’s
Day.”
Then Sintram drove by, swearing and swinging
his whip over his toiling horse. The sand scraped
horribly under the sledge runners, and the shrill
tinkle of his sleigh-bells drowned the church bells.
His forehead was knitted angrily under his fur cap.
The church-goers shuddered and felt they had
seen the Evil One. Not even on that day, at their
midsummer festival, might they forget malevolence
and the bitter cold of winter! Theirs is a cruel lot
who tread this earth.
The people seated in the shade of the church or
on the walls of the churchyard waiting for the
service to begin watched him wonderingly, as he strode
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