"Very well--then take her out of this house at once!" roared Farmer
Rodel, foaming with rage.
"Yes, you need not tell me to do that. I thank you for your good
reception, cousin. When you come to us some day, we'll make it quits,"
replied John. He put both hands up to his head, and cried: "Good
heavens! Mother, mother, how glad you will be!"
"Go up, Barefoot, and take your box away at once; for nothing belonging
to you shall remain in my house!" commanded Farmer Rodel.
"Very well," replied John; "but that can be done with less noise. Come,
Barefoot, I'll go with you. But tell me what your real name is."
"Amrei."
"I was once to have married an Amrei--she is the 'Butter Countess!'--you
are my Salt Countess! Hurrah! Now come; I should like to see your room,
where you have lived so long. Now you shall have a large house!"
The dog, with the hairs on his back standing up like bristles, kept
walking around Farmer Rodel; he saw that the latter would have been glad
to choke John. Only when John and Barefoot were at the top of the stairs
did the dog come running after them.
John let the box stand, because he could not take it on his horse. But
they packed Barefoot's possessions into the sack which she had inherited
from her father.
As they were descending the stairs together on their way out, Barefoot
felt somebody quietly press her hand in the dark--it was her mistress
who was thus taking leave of her.
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