ade of odd parts, so bony and misshapen was it. No two parts
matched, and its limbs groaned and creaked with every movement.

They drove past the big estate, where the squire lived, over the
common, and still further out into the country which Granny had
never seen before.

"But you can't see it now either," corrected Ditte pedantically.

"Oh, you always want to split hairs, 'course I can see it! When I
hear you two speak, I see everything quite plainly. 'Tis a gift of
God, to live through all this in my old days. But I smell something
sweet, what is it?"

"Maybe 'tis the fresh water, Granny," said Lars Peter. "Two or three
miles down to the left is the big lake. Granny has a sharp nose for
anything that's wet." He chuckled over his little joke.

"'Tis water folks can drink without harm," said Maren thoughtfully;
"Soeren's told me about it. We were going to take a trip down there
fishing for eels, but we never did. Ay, they say 'tis a pretty sight
over the water to see the glare of the fires on the summer nights."

In between Lars Peter told them about conditions in his home. It was
not exactly the wedding they were going to, for they had married
about nine months ago--secretly. "'Twas done in a hurry," he
apologetically explained, "or you two would have been there."

Maren became silent; she had looked forward to being present at the
wedding of one of her girls at least, and nothing had come of it.
Otherwise, it was a lovely trip.

"Have you any little ones then?" she asked shortly after.

"A boy," answered Lars Peter, "a proper little monkey--the image of
his mother!" He was quite enthusiastic at the thought of the child.
"Soerine's expecting another one soon," he added quietly.

"You're getting on," said Maren. "How is she?"

"Not quite so well this time. 'Tis the heartburn, she says."

"Then 'twill be a long-haired girl," Maren declared definitely. "And
well on the way she must be, for the hair to stick in the mother's
throat."

It was a beautiful September day. Everything smelt of mold, and the
air was full of moisture, which could be seen as crystal drops over
the sunlit land; a blue haze hung between the trees sinking to rest
in the undergrowth, so that meadow and moor looked like a glimmering
white sea.

Ditte marveled at the endlessness of the world. Constantly something
new could be seen: forests, villages, churches; only the end of the
world, which she expected every moment to see and put an