himself had the bad habit of going to auctions and bringing home a
great deal of useless rubbish. It could be bought on credit, which
was a temptation.

How things collected as years went by, in attics and outhouses! It
was a relief to get it all cleared away. But it was difficult to
keep it together. The children had a use for it all--as soon as they
saw their opportunity, they would run off with something or
other--just like rats.

* * * * *

The day of the auction arrived--a mild, gray, damp October day. The
soft air hung like a veil over everything. The landscape, with its
scattered houses and trees, lay resting in the all-embracing wet.

At the Crow's Nest they had been early astir. Ditte and Lars Peter
had been running busily about from the house to the barn and back
again. Now they had finished, and everything was in readiness. The
children were washed and dressed, and went round full of
expectation, with well-combed heads and faces red from scrubbing and
soap. Ditte did not do things by halves, and when she washed their
ears, and made their eyes smart with the soap, weeping was
unavoidable. But now the disagreeable task was over, and there would
be no more of it for another week; childish tears dry quickly, and
their little faces beamingly met the day.

Little Povl was last ready. Ditte could hardly keep him on the
chair, as she put the finishing touches--he was anxious to be out.
"Well, what d'you say to sister?" she asked, when he was done,
offering her mouth.

"Hobble!" said he, looking roguishly at her; he was in high spirits.
Kristian and Else laughed.

"No, now answer properly," said Ditte seriously; she did not allow
fun when correcting them. "Say, 'thank you, dear'--well?"

"Thank you, dear lump!" said the youth, laughing immoderately.

"Oh, you're mad today," said Ditte, lifting him down. He ran out
into the yard to the father, and continued his nonsense.

"What's that he says?" shouted Lars Peter from outside.

"Oh, it's only something he's made up himself--he often does that.
He seems to think it's something naughty."

"You, lumpy, lump!" said the child, taking hold of his father's leg.

"Mind what you're doing, you little monkey, or I'll come after you!"
said Lars Peter with a terrible roar.

The boy laughed and hid behind the well.

Lars Peter caught him and put him on one shoulder, and his sister on
the other. "We'll go in the fields," said he.

D