ding to
custom, and turned its head. Lars Peter roused himself from his
thoughts and peered in front of the horse, then drove on again.
Klavs could not understand it, but left it at that: Lars Peter could
no longer be bothered to get off the cart to pick up an old
horseshoe.

He began whistling and looked out over the landscape to keep his
thoughts at bay. Down in the marsh they were cutting ice for the
dairies--it was high time too! And the farmer from Gadby was driving
off in his best sledge, with his wife by his side. Others could
enjoy themselves! If only he had his wife in the cart--driving in to
the Capital. There now--he was beginning all over again! Lars Peter
looked in the opposite direction, but what good was that. He could
not get rid of his thoughts.

A woman came rushing up the highroad, from a little farm. "Lars
Peter!" she cried. "Lars Peter!" The nag stopped.

"Are you going to town?" she asked breathlessly, leaning on the
cart.

"Ay, that I am," Lars Peter answered quietly, as if afraid of her
guessing his errand.

"Oh! would you mind buying us a chamber?"

"What! you're getting very grand!" Lars Peter's mouth twisted in
some semblance of a smile.

"Ay, the child's got rheumatic fever, and the doctor won't let her
go outside," the woman explained excusingly.

"I'll do that for you. How big d'you want it?"

"Well, as we must have it, it might as well be a big one. Here's
sixpence, it can't be more than that." She gave him the money
wrapped in a piece of paper, and the nag set off again.

When they had got halfway, Lars Peter turned off to an inn. The
horse needed food, and something enlivening for himself would not
come amiss. He felt downhearted. He drove into the yard, partly
unharnessed, and put on its nosebag.

The fat inn-keeper came to the door, peering out with his small
pig's eyes, which were deeply embedded in a huge expanse of flesh,
like two raisins in rising dough. "Why, here comes the rag and bone
man from Sand!" he shouted, shaking with laughter. "What brings such
fine company today, I wonder?"

Lars Peter had heard this greeting before, and laughed at it, but
today it affected him differently. He had come to the end of his
patience. His blood began to rise. The long-suffering, thoughtful,
slothful Lars Peter turned his head with a jerk--showing a gleam of
teeth. But he checked himself, took off his cape, and spread it over
the horse.

"'Tis he for sure," began the inn-k