The poor creature was overwhelmed by the revulsion of feeling. After a moment's struggle with her pride she burst into loud and uncontrollable sobs, and—to Hansine's great discomfiture—fell on her knees and kissed her hand.
The wedding day broke clear and calm, and nearly as hot as summer. For more than a week, and all through the last night, baking and boiling had been going on at the Farm. The cellars were filled to overflowing with huge joints, mighty hams, brawn and smoked legs of mutton. There were tubs of sausages, baskets heaped with boiled eggs, and lump sugar, ox tongues and dried herrings, mounds of butter and prune tarts as big as cart wheels. These last sent, according to custom, as wedding gifts by the oldest friends of the family.
Neilsen the carpenter and a couple of assistants were putting the finishing touches to the big tent in the little meadow behind the house; while the young girls were busy decorating the walls of the Meeting House with garlands of fir and painted shields. Flags were flying all over the village, and two masts were raised in front of the bride's house, entwined with green, bearing between them a banner with the word "Welcome."
