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Aunt Grenertsen certainly was difficult to talk with; and sometimes he did not even get a “half moon.” He believed he wouldn’t go there any more, or try to please either her or old Katrina, who was almost worse than Aunt Grenertsen. Of solemn musing, and of vision wild! It was a little farther to go home around past Aunt Grenertsen’s, but he didn’t mind that, for it was interesting to watch how the apples grew and to see whether Katrina had gathered any. But day after day everything remained exactly the same. There hung the apples still—the only change being that they grew riper and riper and more tempting. Aunt Grenertsen sat gazing out of her window from behind the plants, and old Katrina, grumpy as ever, stood at the kitchen window peering over the sash curtain, in exactly the same way every day..
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Conrad
Peter, whose friendship was stronger than his courage, trembled with apprehension as the hour drew nigh in which the groans had been heard on the preceding night. He recounted to Ferdinand a variety of terrific circumstances, which existed only in the heated imaginations of his fellow-servants, but which were still admitted by them as facts. Among the rest, he did not omit to mention the light and the figure which had been seen to issue from the south tower on the night of Julia's intended elopement; a circumstance which he embellished with innumerable aggravations of fear and wonder. He concluded with describing the general consternation it had caused, and the consequent behaviour of the marquis, who laughed at the fears of his people, yet condescended to quiet them by a formal review of the buildings whence their terror had originated. He related the adventure of the door which refused to yield, the sounds which arose from within, and the discovery of the fallen roof; but declared that neither he, nor any of his fellow servants, believed the noise or the obstruction proceeded from that, 'because, my lord,' continued he, 'the door seemed to be held only in one place; and as for the noise—O! Lord! I never shall forget what a noise it was!—it was a thousand times louder than what any stones could make.' That steals the sweetness from the shepherd's flute: Feather-in-the-Wind only grunted and led the way swiftly towards the place where he had come on the Mexican bandits. The dark seemed to bother him little, if at all, for he walked with long strides, missing obstructions as if by intuition. The boys had difficulty in keeping up with him and it was a relief to them when he finally slowed down and stopped. Telling them by gestures to use the greatest caution against making a noise, on he went, the boys following. “Why, there he is! Stop, Carlstrom, stop! Johnny Blossom! Johnny Blossom!” she called, twisting herself round in the carriage. “You are just the person I was going to town to see,” she continued. “I had a letter from your Uncle Isaac saying that you were to have this fishing rod at once.”.
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