les is it to Copenhagen then?"

"Six or seven hours' drive, I should say; we've got a load."

"Ugh, what a long way." Ditte shivered. "And it's so cold."

"Ay, if I'm to go alone. But you might go with me! 'Tisn't a
pleasant errand, and the time'll go slowly all that long way. And
one can't get away from sad thoughts!"

"I can't leave home," answered Ditte shortly.

For about the twentieth time Lars Peter tried to talk her over. "We
can easily get Johansens to keep an eye on everything--and can send
the children over to them for a few days," said he.

But Ditte was not to be shaken. Her mother was nothing to her,
people could say what they liked; she _would_ not go and see her in
prison. And her father ought to stop talking like that or she would
be angry; it reminded her of Granny. She hated her mother with all
her heart, in a manner strange for her years. She never mentioned
her, and when the others spoke of her, she would be dumb. Good and
self-sacrificing as she was in all other respects, on this point she
was hard as a stone.

To Lars Peter's good-natured mind this hatred was a mystery. However
much he tried to reconcile her, in the end he had to give up.

"Look and see if there's anything you want for the house," said he.

"I want a packet of salt, the stuff they have at the grocer's is too
coarse to put on the table. And I must have a little spice. I'm
going to try making a cake myself, bought cakes get dry so quickly."

"D'you think you can?" said Lars Peter admiringly.

"There's more to be got," Ditte continued undisturbed, "but I'd
better write it down; or you'll forget half the things like you did
last time."

"Ay, that's best," answered Lars Peter meekly. "My memory's not as
good as it used to be. I don't know--I used to do hundreds of
errands without forgetting one. Maybe 'tis with your mother. And
then belike--a man gets old. Grandfather, he could remember like a
printed book, to the very last."

Ditte got up quickly and shook out her frock.

"There!" said she with a yawn. They put the rags in sacks and tied
them up.

"This'll fetch a little money," said Lars Peter dragging the sacks
to the door, where heaps of old iron and other metals lay in
readiness to be taken to the town. "And what's the time now?--past
six. Ought to be daylight soon."

As Ditte opened the door the frosty air poured in. In the east, over
the lake, the skies were green, with a touch of gold--it was
daybreak. In th