is children.

They got into the cart. "We shan't forget you, either of us," said
Lars Peter huskily, while trying to get the old nag off.

Then the old woman stumbled in, they saw her feeling her way over
the doorstep with her foot and closing the door behind her.

"'Tis lonely to be old and blind," said Lars Peter, lashing his whip
as usual.

Ditte heard nothing; she was sitting with her face in one big smile.
She was driving towards something new; she had no thought for Granny
just then.

CHAPTER XIV

AT HOME WITH MOTHER

The rag and bone man's property--the Crow's Nest--stood a little way
back from the road, and the piece up towards the road he had planted
with willows, partly to hide the half-ruined abode, and partly to
have material for making baskets during the winter, when there was
little business to be done. The willows grew quickly, and already
made a beautiful place for playing hide and seek. He made the house
look as well as it could, with tar and whitewash, but miserable
looking it ever would be, leaking and falling to pieces; it was the
dream of Soerine's life, that they should build a new dwelling-house
up by the road, using this as outhouse. The surroundings were
desolate and barren, and a long way from neighbors. The view towards
the northwest was shut off by a big forest, and on the opposite side
was the big lake, which reflected all kinds of weather. On the dark
nights could be heard the quacking of the ducks in the rushes on its
banks, and on rainy days, boats would glide like shadows over it,
with a dark motionless figure in the bow, the eel-fisher. He held
his eel-fork slantingly in front of him, prodded the water sleepily
now and then, and slid past. It was like a dream picture, and the
whole lake was in keeping. When Ditte felt dull she would pretend
that she ran down to the banks, hid herself in the rushes, and dream
herself home to Granny. Or perhaps away to something still better;
something unknown, which was in store for her somewhere or other.
Ditte never doubted but that there was something special in reserve
for her, so glorious that it was impossible even to imagine it.

In her play too, her thoughts would go seawards, and when her
longing for Granny was too strong, she would run round the corner of
the house and gaze over the wide expanse of water. Now she knew
Granny's true worth.

She had not yet been down to the sea; as a matter of fact there was
no time to play.