The fox put up its pointed nose, and stared in amazement after the hare.  It had not heard any splash.  For, according to all the rules of art, it had come creeping along the bottom of a deep ditch; and, as it was not conscious of having made any mistake, it could not understand the strange conduct of the hare.

Long it stood, with its head up, its hindquarters lowered, and its great bushy tail hidden in the heather; and it began to wonder whether the hares were getting wiser or the foxes getting more foolish.

But when the west wind had travelled a long way it became a north wind, then an east wind, then a south wind, and at last it again came over the sea as a west wind, dashed in upon the downs, and sighed long and strangely among the dry clusters of heather.  But then a pair of wondering gray eyes were lacking in Krarup Kro, and a blue serge dress that had grown too tight.  And the innkeeper’s wife whined and whimpered more than ever.  She could not understand it—­nobody could understand it—­except Anders the post-boy—­and one beside.

But when old folks wished to give the young a really serious admonition, they used to begin thus:  ’There was once in Krarup Kro a girl named Karen—­

MY SISTER’S JOURNEY TO MODUM.

My sister was going to Modum.  It was before the opening of the Drammen Railway, and it was a dreadfully long carriole drive from Christiania to Drammen.

But everything depended upon getting off—­hyp—­getting to Drammen—­hyp, hyp—­in time to catch the train which left for Modum at two o’clock.  Hyp—­oh, dear, if the train should be gone—­to wait until next day—­alone—­in Drammen!

My sister stimulated the post-boys with drink-money, and the horses with small pokes of her umbrella; but both horses and post-boys were numerous upon this route, and much time was lost at the stopping-places.

First, the luggage had to be transferred to the new carriole.  There were the big trunk and the little one, and the plaids with loosened strap, the umbrella, the en-tout-cas, the bouquet, and the book.

Then there was paying, and reckoning, and changing; and the purse was crammed so extraordinarily full that it would shower three-skilling pieces, [Footnote:  Skilling, a halfpenny.] or a shining half-dollar would swing itself over the side, make a graceful curve, like a skater, round the floor, and disappear behind the stove.  It had to be got out before it could be changed, and that nobody could do.

As soon as the fresh horses appeared in the yard, my sister would spring resolutely out, and swing herself into the carriole.

‘Thanks; I am ready now.  Let us be off.  Good-bye.’

Yes, then they would all come running after her—­the umbrella, the en-tout-cas, the plaids with loosened strap, the bouquet, and the book, everything would be thrown into her lap, and she would hold on to them until the next station was reached, while the station-master’s honest wife stood and feebly waved the young lady’s pocket-handkerchief, in a manner which could not possibly attract her attention.