Part 38 (2/2)

Quickly she put on her things, and hurried round to her faithful supporter, Consul Jansen.

On Sat.u.r.day evening, the _Strandvik News_ appeared, and created an indescribable sensation throughout the town by printing immediately under the big announcement of the festival in the park, the following lines:

”_N.B._ _N.B._

”After the conclusion of the festival, an impromptu dance for young people will take place in the Town Hall. Tickets, three s.h.i.+llings each. The surplus will be devoted to the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field. Mrs. Emma Jansen and Mrs.

Emilie Rantzau have kindly consented to act as hostesses.”

Mrs. Heidt started up in a fury, and declared it was a disgraceful piece of trickery on the part of that Emilie Rantzau. She could forgive Mrs. Jansen, perhaps, as being too much of a simpleton herself to see through the artful meanness of the whole thing.

On Sunday evening, after the festival, all the young people and a number of the older ones flocked to the Town Hall, where Mrs. Rantzau received them with her most winning smile.

Mrs. Heidt, Mrs. Knap and Mrs. Abrahamsen went each to their several homes, boiling with indignation; they had not even been invited to look on.

Some few there were, perhaps, who failed to see any immediate connection between a Peace Festival and the Society for Tending Sick and Wounded in the Field, but all enjoyed themselves thoroughly, and that, after all, was the main thing.

Emilie Rantzau was the queen of the ball, and well aware of it. She felt she had vanquished her rivals now, and was left in victorious possession of the field. One thing, however, caused her some slight anxiety, and that was that Nickelsen did not put in an appearance, though he had promised to come on later--what could it mean?

Old Nick was sitting at home, deep in thought, and with him were Thor Smith, Nachmann and Warden Prois.

”You must see and get clear of this, Nickelsen,” said Prois warmly, laying one hand on his shoulder.

”Yes, I suppose I must. But the worst of it is, I've got fond of her, you see, and I've been hoping she'd brighten up the few years I've got left.”

”I know, I know,” said Prois. ”I've been through exactly the same thing myself, a few years back, but, thanks to Providence, I got out of it all right.”

”Don't blame it on Providence, Warden,” put in Nachmann. ”It was that telegraph fellow you had to thank for cutting you out.”

”It's not a matter for joking,” said Prois sharply; and Nachmann withdrew to a corner of the sofa, quite depressed by the seriousness of the situation.

Thor Smith could stand it no longer; this unwonted solemnity was too much for him. He slipped out into the hall, and, sitting down on an old leather trunk, laughed till he cried.

There was a long conference at Old Nick's that evening, and it was one o'clock before he faithfully promised to follow his friends'

advice, and thrust out Emilie Rantzau from his house and heart.

How this was to be accomplished must be decided later; meantime the conspirators would take it in turn to dine with Old Nick and spend the rest of the day with him, to guard against any backsliding.

Old Nick agreed to it all, helplessly as a child.

How could they get her to go? The question was argued and discussed, but no one could hit upon any reasonable plan. At last they decided to call in Peter Oiland, who had lately been on terms of intimacy with Old Nick, and see what he could do.

Peter Oiland put on a serious face, and looked doubtfully over at Prois, whose mind was becoming almost unhinged by these everlasting conferences and endless discussions, while the seriousness of the situation forbade any over-hasty steps.

”Well, we can't very well turn her out by force,” said Peter Oiland.

”The only thing to do is to try and get at the soft side of her: an appeal to the heart, you understand.”

”H'm; her heart's like the drawers in my store,” said Nachmann. ”In and out according to what's wanted.”

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