“Poor Aalbom!” said Gabriel, thoughtfully.  He was so happy himself, and in such a forgiving mood, that he sat down at a table by the window, and began sketching, with the greatest care and attention, the equestrian statue on the Kongen’s Nytorv.  The sketch was intended as a present for Mr. Aalbom.

A few days after each went to his own place; Morten and Fanny to Carlsbad, Gabriel to England to arrange his change of quarters, and the newly married couple home to Norway.

On the quay where the steamers landed their passengers was to be seen a shining new carriage, with a new coachman and a new pair of horses.  In the carriage sat Mrs. Worse, wearing a new silk mantle and a new bonnet.  She had telegraphed for the whole set-out to Worse’s agent in Copenhagen, with whom the money had for some time been lying ready.

On the box of the carriage, huddled up in a heap, sat Mr. Samuelsen.  Mrs. Worse’s efforts to make him take his place by her side had been unavailing; he thought it was quite bad enough as it was.

A group of small boys were naturally standing round the carriage, partly to see the horses, and partly to have a good look at the dreaded Pitter Nilken.  Suddenly one of the young rascals took it into his head to repeat the well-known irritating verse—­not exactly singing out loud, but only barely moving his lips.  The idea was soon caught up by his comrades, and wherever the unhappy Mr. Samuelsen turned his head he could read the couplet on the busy lips, and follow the song—­

     “Little Pitter Nilken,
     Sitting on his chair”—­

It was enough to drive one mad.

     “He’s always growing smaller
     The longer he sits there.”

The newly married couple got in, and the carriage rolled off through the town.  Mrs. Worse laughed boisterously with tears in her eyes the whole way; she kept bowing in all directions, and her face was radiant with smiles.  As they turned into the yard, the new bonnet had slipped so far over to one side that it fell off when the carriage stopped at the door; and as the worthy Mr. Samuelsen jumped down, in his great anxiety to help the ladies to alight, he came with both feet right on top of the bonnet, notwithstanding that he had seen the danger when he was making his spring.

It was quite a business to get Mrs. Worse “balanced” upstairs, she laughed so immoderately.  They all laughed; the coachman laughed; the maids laughed; the newly married couple laughed; every one laughed except the unfortunate Mr. Samuelsen, who followed the others upstairs, carrying, with averted eyes, his mistress’s bonnet by one string, and dragging the other after him up the staircase.  The lovely new bonnet, which was scarcely recognizable as a bonnet any longer!

They had dinner in the young people’s apartments, where Mrs. Worse did the fine lady to her own intense satisfaction, and persisted in talking something which she called French.  In the evening, when Rachel and her husband returned from a visit from Sandsgaard, the whole party moved over to Mrs. Worse’s room at the back of the house.