98 STRAY- AW AYS 



Herr Jorgenscn let fall the mouthpiece of the tele- 

 phone and strode from the room. Had the cake 

 miscarried ? or had he miscalculated the number of 

 toothpicks ? We knew not ; but the larger cause, at 

 least, of his preoccupation was sufficiently explained. 

 A banquet at the profane hour of 7.30 is not an 

 everyday affair in Aarhus. 



Ill 



One after another next morning the reserves were 

 called out. The inhabitants of Aarhus might face 

 the east wind with low-necked dresses of summer 

 material, but the air that mounted the stairs across 

 the scrubbing-brush of the Zimmer Madchen, when 

 we emerged from the deceitful sunshine of our room, 

 sent us back again to order out the forlorn hope of 

 astrakhan and winter stockings. 



And yet it was summer, by every vow that summer 

 knows how to make : by gloAving blue sky, by strong 

 sunlight and deep shade, by cheap flowers and cheaper 

 fruit, by the barren gleam of black lead on the closed 

 jaws of the stoves. Our noses might be red and 

 our faces blue, but the children sat bare-legged and 

 bare-armed in the dust, enjoying themselves with 

 every appearance of warmth ; and young ladies of 

 fashionable appearance walked about in coats whose 

 low-cut collars were filled by a triangle of unsheltered 

 chest and a coral necklace. 



There is a river in Aarhus which looks like a canal, 

 or perhaps it is a canal and looks like a river; which- 

 ever it may be, it is the salvation of an otherwise 

 dry and angular town. Shaded by neat young limes, 

 it bears in brinnning silence its sluggish green burden 

 of water to the harbour, reflecting crooked houses, 

 loungers on the low foot-bridges, and boats of savage 



