longed to tell her kind protector of Niels, and beg him
to take her back. But she was a wise little maid, and curious withal.
So she said to herself: "Who knows? It may be a beautiful home, and the
kind people may send me back for Niels. I will go on now, for I have
never been but one road in all my life, and surely I can find it
again."

So she walked quietly on beside father Peder, till at last his little
cottage appeared in sight.

"This is your new home, dear child," said he, and they stepped quickly
up to the door, opened it softly, and entered the little room.

Grandmother Ingeborg was nodding in her big chair in the chimney
corner, but the soft footsteps aroused her, and, looking up, she said:

"Oh! _tak fur sidst_[A] good Peder. Hi, though! What is that you bring
with you?"

[Footnote A: Thanks for seeing you again.]

Before she could be answered, the children, whose first nap was nearly
over, awoke and saw their father with the little girl clinging to his
hand, and looking shyly at them from his sheltering arm.

"Oh!" cried Olga, "a little sister! _My_ wish has come true!"--and she
ran to the new-comer and gave her sweet kisses of welcome; at which
father Peder said, "That is my own good Olga."

But grandmother Ingeborg, who had put on her spectacles, said:

"Ah! I see now! A good-for-nothing Lapp child! She shall not stay here,
surely!"

"Listen," said Peder Olsen, "and I will tell you why I brought home the
little Hansa, for that is her name,"--and he told the story of the
father's drinking so much finkel, and offering to give his little girl
for a pipe, and how he himself had purchased her. "But see!" added the
worthy Peder, turning toward Hansa, "you are not bound but for as long
as the heart says stay."

Hansa looked about, and, meeting Olga's sweet, entreating glance, said,
"I will stay ever."

Then Olga cried, joyously, "Now, indeed, have I a sister!" and took her
to her own little bed, where soon they both were sleeping, side by
side.

As for Olaf and Erik, they were still silent, though now from anger,
and that was very bad.

Grandmother Ingeborg, I think, was angry, too, for said she to herself:

"Now I shall have to spin more cloth, and sew and knit, that when her
own clothes wear out we may clothe this miserable Lapp child" (for the
good dame was a true Norwegian, and despised the Lapps); "and our
little ones must divide their brown bread and milk with her, for we are
too poor to