the parson
to give us his blessing, Soerine and me, I'll come with the trap and
fetch the two of you to church. That's if you don't care to move
down to us at once--seems like that would be best."

"Did Soerine send the message?" asked Maren suspiciously.

Lars Peter Hansen mumbled something, which might be taken for either
yes or no.

"Ay, I thought so, you hit on it yourself, and thanks to you for
your kindness; but we'd better stay where we are. Though we'd like
to go to the wedding. 'Tis eight children I've brought into the
world, and nigh all married now, but I've never been asked to a
wedding afore." Maren became thoughtful. "And what's your trade?"
she asked soon after.

"I hawk herrings--and anything else to be got. Buy rags and bones
too when folks have any."

"You can hardly make much at that--for folks wear their rags as long
as there's a thread left--and there's few better off than that. Or
maybe they're more well-to-do in other places?"

"Nay, 'tis the same there as here, clothes worn out to the last
thread, and bones used until they crumble," answered the man with a
laugh. "But a living's to be made."

"Ay, that's so, food's to be got from somewhere! But you must be
hungry? 'Tisn't much we've got to offer you, though we can manage a
cup of coffee, if that's good enough--Ditte, run along to the baker
and tell him what you've done to the bread, and that we've got
company. Maybe he'll scold you and give you another--if he doesn't,
we'll have to go without next week. But tell the truth. Hurry up
now--and don't pull out the crump."

With lingering feet Ditte went out of the door. It was a hard
punishment, and she hung back in the hope that Granny would relent
and let her off fetching the bread. Pull out the crump--no, never
again, today or as long as she lived. Her ears burned with shame at
the thought that her new father should know her misdeeds, the baker
too would know what a wicked girl she was to Granny. She would not
tell an untruth, for Granny always said to clear oneself with a lie
was like cutting thistles: cut off the head of one and half a dozen
will spring up in its place. Ditte knew from experience that lies
always came back on one with redoubled trouble; consequently she had
made up her little mind, that it did not pay to avoid the truth.

Lars Peter Hansen sat by the window gazing after the child, who
loitered along the road, and as she suddenly began to run, he turned
to the old wom