Our alderman spoke with him twice, and he says it is so.’

“‘Very likely your alderman has a guilty conscience and cannot look any one in the eye,’ he replied and at the same time wrote something upon a slip of paper. He handed it to Mrs. Novotny, telling her to go to the Pies, to the provision house, where she would sell her blankets and get her pay when she showed them that paper; then turning to me he gave me this silver dollar, and said: ‘Take this as a keepsake from the Emperor Joseph. Do not forget to pray for him and his wife, for prayers coming from earnest hearts are acceptable to God, When you get home, tell your friends you spoke with the Emperor Joseph.’ With these words he turned and hastened away.

“Overwhelmed with joy and surprise we knelt down, not knowing what we did. Mrs. Novotny scolded me because I had been so forward, but she also had been bold enough. But who would have thought that it was the Emperor! We comforted ourselves, however, by thinking that if he had been offended he would not have made us presents.

“When Mrs. Novotny came to the magazine she got three times as much for her blankets as she asked.

“We almost flew home, and when we got there, there was no end of telling about it, and everybody envied us. Mother had a hole punched through the dollar, and I have worn it on my neck ever since. Many a time I have been in need, but I would never part with my dollar. A thousand pities that the sod covers that good man!” added Grandmother softly, as she finished the story.

“Yes, indeed, a thousand pities!” echoed the listeners. The children, after learning the history of the dollar, turned it from side to side, for now it had acquired a new interest to them, and Grandmother, because she had spoken to the Emperor, was regarded with even more reverence than before.

At the mill the week began on Sunday evening for then the peasants came in with their grist. The rumbling of the wheels was heard; the foreman went about the mill room, examining all with a practiced eye; the workmen hurried from basket to basket, upstairs and downstairs; while the miller stood at the door welcoming his customers with a pleasant smile, and offering each a pinch of snuff.

In the summer, the miller’s wife and Manchinka accompanied Grandmother over to the inn. When there was a dance there, they generally stopped at the gate, where they were joined by several of the women from the village, and all remained for a while to watch the dancers. To enter was impossible on account of the crowd standing at the door; even Christina, when she took beer out to the gentlemen sitting in the orchard, was obliged to hold the glasses high over her head for fear they should be knocked out of her hands.

“Do you see these gentlemen?” said the miller’s wife as she made a gesture with her head toward the orchard, where sat several of the men from the castle and tried to detain Christina whenever she brought them beer,— “do you see them! Yes, indeed, that is a lass such as doesn’t grow upon every bush. But do not imagine that the Lord had her blossom out for such as you, that you might ruin her beautiful life.”

“No danger!” said Grandmother, “Christina is too sharp for them. She knows how to dispose of them at short notice.”

Grandmother was right. Just then one of those gentlemen, perfumed so strongly that he could be smelt ten yards off, whispered something in her ear; she laughed as she replied: “Unload your wares, sir, unload; we will not buy!” Then she hastened into the dancing hall and with a smiling face put her hand in the large, hard palm of a stalwart youth, who placed his other arm around her waist and led her off to the dance, unmindful of the call, “Christina, some more beer!”

“That one is dearer to her than the castle with all its lords and treasures,” smiled Grandmother, as she bade the miller’s wife good night, and then with the children slowly wended her way homeward.

Once in a fortnight, or in three weeks, when the weather was fine, Grandmother would say: “To-day we will go to the gamekeeper’s to spin.” The children spoke of nothing else until they had started on their journey. Behind the dam the way led on the steep side to the bridge, beyond the bridge clear to Riesenburg; the path was shaded by rows of tall poplars. Grandmother, however, preferred the way along the river to the mill. There was a high hill above the saw - mill, where much mullein grew, which Barunka was fond of gathering for Grandmother. From the saw - mill the valley grew narrower and narrower, until the river was confined in a narrow trough, and flew quickly over the large stones that obstructed its path. The hills here were covered with evergreens, whose dense foliage cast a dark shadow upon the valley below. This was the path Grandmother took with the children, until they reached Riesenburg fortress, whose moss covered ruins projected above the dark wood.

A short distance from the fortress, above an underground passage, through which it was said sin to see how the lambs were doing and how much they had grown since last she saw them. You must remember that at that time there was neither village nor chapel here. There was only the farm and the farm house where dwelt the steward and such servants as were needed to do the work. All around there was nothing but woods, in which were many wild beasts.

“Turynsky’s little daughter had often been to the farm, but she had ridden with her father. Now she thought, simple child: ‘I’ll take a little run and I’ll be there.’ She followed her eyes, thinking one way as good as another, — she was young and ignorant like you. When, however, she had gone a long time, and no farm was in sight, she began to be alarmed; she thought: ‘What will my father and mother say when they find out that I have left the castle?’ She turned and hastened back toward her home. When one is alarmed, especially such a child, one becomes confused very easily.