ung crow," he said, crying.

"Then call them names back again," said Ditte; and off he had to go.

But one day there came a message from the schoolmaster that the boy
was absent too often. The message was repeated. Ditte could not
understand it. She had a long talk with the boy, and got out of him
that he often played truant. He made a pretense of going to school,
hung about anywhere all day long, and only returned home when
school-time was over. She said nothing of this to Lars Peter--it
would only have made things worse.

The unkindness from outside made them cling more closely to one
another. There was something of the hunted animal in them; Lars
Peter was reserved in his manner to people, and was ready to fly out
if attacked. The whole family grew shy and suspicious. When the
children played outside the house, and saw people approaching on the
highroad, they would rush in, peeping at them from behind the broken
window-panes. Ditte watched like a she-wolf, lest other children
should harm her little brothers and sister; when necessary, she
would both bite and kick, and she could hurl words at them too. One
day when Lars Peter was driving past the school, the schoolmaster
came out and complained of her--she used such bad language. He could
not understand it; at home she was always good and saw that the
little ones behaved properly. When he spoke of this, Ditte hardened.

"I won't stand their teasing," said she.

"Then stay at home from school, and then we'll see what they'll do."

"We'll only be fined for every day; and then one day they'll come
and fetch me," said Ditte bitterly.

"They won't easily take you away by force. Somebody else would have
something to say to that." Lars Peter nodded threateningly.

But Ditte would not--she would take her chance. "I've just as much
right to be there as the others," she said stubbornly.

"Ay, ay, that's so. But it's a shame you should suffer for other
people's wickedness."

Lars Peter seldom went out now, but busied himself cultivating his
land, so that he could be near the children and home. He had a
feeling of insecurity; people had banded themselves together against
him and his family, and meant them no good. He was uneasy when away
from home, and constantly felt as if something had happened. The
children were delighted at the change.

"Are you going to stay at home tomorrow too, Father?" asked the two
little ones every evening, gazing up at him with their small