"Oh, how you have been dragged about!" she said, almost aloud. But she
soon got over her excitement in her curiosity to see what Damie had
brought back. "He must at least still have the shirts that I made for
him out of Black Marianne's linen. And perhaps there is also a present
from our uncle in America in it. But if he had anything good, would he
have gone first to Coaly Mathew in the forest? Would he not have shown
himself in the village at once?"
Barefoot had plenty of time to indulge in these reflections; for the
sack had been tied with a cord, which had been knotted in a most
complicated way, and it required all her patience and skill to
disentangle it. She emptied out everything that was in the sack and said
with angry eyes:
"Oh, you good-for-nothing! There's not a decent shirt left! Now you may
have your choice whether you'll be called 'Jack in Tatters' or 'Tattered
Jack.'"
This was not a happy frame of mind in which to greet her brother for the
first time. And Damie seemed to realize this; for he stood at the
entrance of the log cabin and looked on, until Barefoot had put
everything back into the sack. Then he stepped up to her and said:
"God greet you, Amrei! I bring you nothing but dirty clothes, but you
are neat, and will make me--"
"Oh, dear Damie, how you look!" cried Barefoot, and she threw herself on
his neck. But she quickly tore herself away from him, exclaiming:
"For Heaven's sake! You smell of whisky! Have you got so far already?"
"No, Coaly Mathew only gave me a little juniper spirit, for I could not
stand up any longer.
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