At last the mother stood up and said that they must all go into the
house, for it was long after the children's usual bed-time. At this their
father arose, and called out,
"Who has guessed the charade?"
Not one had even thought of it, except to be sure, the author.
"Well, I have guessed it myself," said their father, as no one spoke. "It
must be 'welcome,' is it not, Rolf? I will touch glasses with you, my boy,
and thank you very much for your charade."
Just as Rolf was raising his glass towards his father's to drink his
health, a terrible shriek arose, "It is burning, it is burning!" Everybody
ran from under the apple-tree; Battiste and Trine came from the house with
tubs and buckets, Hans from the stable with a pail in each hand; all
screaming and shouting together.
"The bush is on fire! the hedge is on fire!" There was terrible noise and
confusion.
"Dora! Dora!" cried a voice of distress from the cottage behind the hedge,
and Dora rose from her hiding place and hurried into the house.
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