When the wild geese rode over the estate in the early morning hour there
was no human being about. When they had carefully assured themselves of
this, they lowered themselves toward the dog kennel, and shouted: "What
kind of a little hut is this? What kind of a little hut is this?"
Instantly the dog came out of his kennel--furiously angry--and barked at
the air.
"Do you call this a hut, you tramps! Can't you see that this is a great
stone castle? Can't you see what fine terraces, and what a lot of pretty
walls and windows and great doors it has, bow, wow, wow, wow? Don't you
see the grounds, can't you see the garden, can't you see the
conservatories, can't you see the marble statues? You call this a hut,
do you? Do huts have parks with beech-groves and hazel-bushes and
trailing vines and oak trees and firs and hunting-grounds filled with
game, wow, wow, wow? Do you call this a hut? Have you seen huts with so
many outhouses around them that they look like a whole village? You must
know of a lot of huts that have their own church and their own
parsonage; and that rule over the district and the peasant homes and the
neighbouring farms and barracks, wow, wow, wow? Do you call this a hut?
To this hut belong the richest possessions in Skane, you beggars! You
can't see a bit of land, from where you hang in the clouds, that does
not obey commands from this hut, wow, wow, wow!"
All this the dog managed to cry out in one breath; and the wild geese
flew back and forth over the estate, and listened to him until he was
winded.
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