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low all talking at once, but the waterfall kept
on with its rush and noise, for, as I have said,
there was a tremendous lot of water in the pond
that day. All this happened in a much shorter
time than it takes me to write it, you know.
I heard Soren, the mason’s, angry voice.
“ Such a thing as this sha’n’t be permitted!
I won’t have it—not if I swing for it! Even if
it is the judge’s children themselves-”
A sudden suspicion popped into my head.
“Karsten! Something must have gone
wrong with our waterfall! ”
“ I’ll run down and see! ”
“No! Are you crazy? Don’t go! Can’t
you hear how angry Soren, the mason, is ? ”
By this time the whole pond had emptied
it-self out. The waterfall had subsided into little
trickling rills, coursing in straggling lines
down the precipice. Then Soren, the mason,
appeared in the distance, having reached a
piece of ground where he could look across to
where we were.
He is a thin old man, and dresses in white
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