Only in the house of Farmer Rodel were they glad to have her, for the farmer was her guardian.  His wife, who had always taken Amrei’s part and who had one day promised to take her into her service when she was older, was prevented from carrying out this plan.  She herself was taken by another—­Death.  The heaviness of life is generally felt in later years, when one friend after another has been called away, and only a name and a memory remains.  But it was Amrei’s lot to experience this in her youth; and it was she and Black Marianne who wept more bitterly than any of the others at the funeral of Farmer Rodel’s wife.

Farmer Rodel was always complaining about how hard it was that he should have to give up his property so soon, although not one of his three children was yet married.  But hardly a year had passed, and Damie had not yet worked a full year in the quarry, when the celebration of a double wedding was announced in the village; for Farmer Rodel’s eldest daughter and his only son were to be married on the same day.  On this day Farmer Rodel was to give over his property to his son, and at this wedding it was fated that Amrei should acquire a new name and be introduced into a new life.

In the space before the large dancing-floor the children were assembled, and while the grown-up people were dancing and enjoying themselves within, the children were imitating them outside.  But, strange to say, no boy and no girl would dance with Amrei.  No one knew who said it first, but a voice was heard to call out: 

“No one will dance with you-you’re Little Barefoot!” and “Barefoot!  Barefoot!  Barefoot!” was echoed on all sides.  Amrei was ready to weep; but here again she quickly made use of the power which enabled her to ignore insult and injury.  Suppressing her tears, she seized her apron by the two ends and danced around by herself so gracefully and prettily, that all the children stopped to look at her.  And presently the grown-up people were nodding to one another, and a circle of men and women was formed around Amrei.  Farmer Rodel, in particular, who on this day was eating and drinking with double relish, snapped his fingers and whistled the waltz the musicians were playing, while Amrei went on dancing and seemed to know no weariness.  When at last the music ceased, Farmer Rodel took Amrei by the hand and said: 

“You clever girl, who taught you to do that so well?”

“Nobody.”

“Why don’t you dance with any one?”

“It is better to dance alone—­then one does not have to wait for anybody, and has one’s partner always at hand.”

“Have you had anything from the wedding yet?” asked Farmer Rodel, with a complacent smile.

“No.”

“Then come in and eat,” said the proud farmer; and he led the poor girl into the house and sat her down at the wedding table, at which feasting was going on all day long.  Amrei did not eat much.  Farmer Rodel, for a jest, wanted to make the child tipsy, but Amrei said bravely: