Aunt Grenertsen was difficult to talk with—so contrary, somehow, even if not really cross, that it was very tiresome. She wasn’t the least bit like Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe, who was always kind and gentle, always pleasant. Oh, dear, no! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t like Uncle Isaac; far, far from it!,
Aunt Grenertsen opened the box.,
Hardly daring to breathe, he watched and hoped for a flame to spring from the wood.If it came, he had won; if not, his losing was the end of the fight. There would be no other way out..
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