Grubersepp also came again.  He had been proud enough before; but now he was doubly so, for he had made a man of his neighbor, or at all events had helped to do so.  He did not give way to tender sentiment.  He condensed all his knowledge of life into a few sentences, which he delivered himself of most bluntly.

“I only want to tell you,” said he, “you’ll have lots of servants now.  Take my word for it, the best of them are good for nothing; but something may be made of them for all that.  He who would have his servants mow well, must take the scythe in hand himself.  And since you got your riches so quickly, don’t forget the proverb:  ’Light come, light go.’  Keep steady, or it’ll go ill with you.”

He gave him much more good advice, and Hansei accompanied him all the way back to his house.  With a silent pressure of the hand they took leave of each other.

The house seemed empty, for quite a number of chests and boxes had been sent in advance by a boat that was already crossing the lake.  On the following morning two teams would be in waiting on the other side.

“So this is the last time that we go to bed in this house,” said the mother.  They were all fatigued with work and excitement, and yet none of them cared to go to bed.  At last, however, they could not help doing so, although they slept but little.

The next morning they were up and about at an early hour.  Having attired themselves in their best clothes, they bundled up the beds and carried them into the boat.  The mother kindled the last fire on the hearth.  The cows were led out and put into the boat, the chickens were also taken along in a coop, and the dog was constantly running to and fro.

The hour of parting had come.

The mother uttered a prayer, and then called all of them into the kitchen.  She scooped up some water from the pail and poured it into the fire, with these words:—­“May all that’s evil be thus poured out and extinguished, and let those who light a fire after us find nothing but health in their home.”

Hansei, Walpurga, and Gundel were each of them obliged to pour a ladleful of water into the fire, and the grandmother guided the child’s hand while it did the same thing.

After they had all silently performed this ceremony, the grandmother prayed aloud:—­

“Take from us, O Lord our God, all heartache and home-sickness and all trouble, and grant us health and a happy home where we next kindle our fire.”

She was the first to cross the threshold.  She had the child in her arms and covered its eyes with her hands while she called out to the others:—­

“Don’t look back when you go out.”