ilent reproach to him.

"Aren't you going to do anything with it?" Ditte would ask. "Folk
say it's lying there wasting."

"Where did you hear that?" asked Lars Peter bitterly.

"Oh--at school!"

So they talked about that too! There was not much where he was
concerned which was not torn to pieces. No, he had no desire to
build. "We've got a roof over our heads," said he indifferently. "If
any one thinks our hut's not good enough, let them give us another."
But the building materials remained there as an accusation; he was
not sorry when they were overgrown with grass.

What good would it do to build? The Crow's Nest was, and would
remain, the Crow's Nest, however much they tried to polish it up. It
had not grown in esteem by Soerine's deed. She had done her best to
give them a lift up in the world--and had only succeeded in pushing
them down to the uttermost depth. Previously, it had only been
misfortune which clung to the house, and kept better people away;
now it was crime. No-one would come near the house after dusk, and
by day they had as little as possible to do with the rag and bone
man. The children were shunned; they were the offspring of a
murderess, and nothing was too bad to be thought of them.

The people tried to excuse their harshness, and justified their
behavior towards the family, by endowing them with all the worst
qualities. At one time it was reported that they were thieves. But
that died down, and then they said that the house was haunted. Old
Maren went about searching for her money; first one, then another,
had met her on the highroad at night, on her way to the Crow's Nest.

The full burden of all this fell on the little ones. It was
mercilessly thrown in their faces by the other children at school;
and when they came home crying, Lars Peter of course had to bear his
share too. No-one dared say anything to him, himself--let them try
if they dared! The rag and bone man's fingers tingled when he heard
all this backbiting--why couldn't he and his be allowed to go in
peace. He wouldn't mind catching one of the rogues red-handed. He
would knock him down in cold blood, whatever the consequences might
be.

Kristian now went to school too, in the infants' class. The classes
were held every other day, and his did not coincide with Ditte's,
who was in a higher class. He had great difficulty in keeping up
with the other children, and could hardly be driven off in the
mornings. "They call me the yo