itte and Kristian went with him, it would be their last walk there;
involuntarily they each took hold of his coat. Thus they went down
the pathway to the clay-pit, past the marsh and up on the other
side. It was strange how different everything looked now they were
going to lose it. The marsh and the clay-pit could have told their
own tale about the children's play and Lars Peter's plans. The
brambles in the hedges, the large stone which marked the boundary,
the stone behind which they used to hide--all spoke to them in their
own way today. The winter seed was in the earth, and everything
ready for the new occupier, whoever he might be. Lars Peter did not
wish his successor to have anything to complain of. No-one should
say that he had neglected his land, because he was not going to reap
the harvest.

"Ay, our time's up here," said he, when they were back in the house
again. "Lord knows what the new place'll be like!" There was a catch
in his voice as he spoke.

A small crowd began to collect on the highroad. They stood in groups
and did not go down to the Crow's Nest, until the auctioneer and his
clerk arrived. Ditte was on the point of screaming when she saw who
the two men were; they were the same who had come to fetch her
mother. But now they came on quite a different errand, and spoke
kindly.

Behind their conveyance came group after group of people, quite a
procession. It looked as if no-one wanted to be the first to put
foot on the rag and bone man's ground. Where the officials went,
they too could follow, but the auctioneer and his clerk were the
only ones to shake hands with Lars Peter; the others hung aimlessly
about, and put their heads together, keeping up a whispering
conversation.

Lars Peter summed up the buyers. There were one or two farmers among
them, mean old men, who had come in the hope of getting a bargain.
Otherwise they were nearly all poor people from round about,
cottagers and laborers who were tempted by the chance of buying on
credit. They took no notice of him, but rubbed up against the
farmers--and made up to the clerk; they did not dare to approach the
auctioneer.

"Ay, they behave as if I were dirt," thought Lars Peter. And what
were they after all? Most of them did not even own enough ground to
grow a carrot in. A good thing he owed them nothing! Even the
cottagers from the marsh, whom he had often helped in their poverty,
followed the others' example and looked down on him today