They had not used them in a long
time, said the beadle, and added, "It was a kind of Catholic fashion
anyway, and no good." The pews had apparently suspected as much,
and had held haughtily aloof from the purses. That may have been
another reason for their going.
The old town ever had its own ways. They were mostly good ways,
though sometimes odd. Who but a Ribe citizen would have thought
of Knud Clausen's way of doing my wife honor on the Sunday morning
when, as a young girl, she went to church to be confirmed? Her
father and Knud were neighbors and Knud's barn-yard was a sore
subject between them, being right under the other's dining-room
window. He sometimes protested and oftener offered to buy, but
Knud would neither listen nor sell. But he loved the ground his
neighbor's pretty daughter walked upon, as did, indeed, every poor
man in the town, and on her Sunday he showed it by strewing the
offensive pile with fresh cut grass and leaves, and sticking it
full of flowers. It was well meant, and it was Danish all over.
Stick up for your rights at any cost.
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