iated. She had everything ready to cut more sandwiches as soon
as the others gave out; every other minute she peeped through the
door to see what was going on, her heart in her mouth. Every now and
then a stranger strolled into the room, looking round with
curiosity, but passed out without eating anything. A man entered--he
was not from the neighborhood, and Ditte did not know him. He
stepped over the bench, took a sandwich, and poured himself out a
glass of brandy. Ditte could see by his jaws that he was enjoying
himself. Then in came a farmer's wife, drew him away by his arm,
whispering something to him. He got up, spat the food out into his
hand, and followed her out of doors.

When Lars Peter came into the kitchen, Ditte lay over the table,
crying. He lifted her up. "What's the matter now?" he asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," sniffed Ditte, struggling to get away. Perhaps
she wanted to spare him, or perhaps to hide her shame even from him.
Only after much persuasion did he get out of her that it was the
food. "They won't touch it!" she sobbed.

He had noticed it himself.

"Maybe they're not hungry yet," said he, to comfort her. "And they
haven't time either."

"They think it's bad!" she broke out, "made from dog's meat or
something like that."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Lars Peter laughed strangely. "It's not
dinner-time either."

"I heard a woman telling her husband myself--not to touch it," she
said.

Lars Peter was silent for a few minutes. "Now, don't worry over it,"
said he, stroking her hair. "Tomorrow we're leaving, and then we
shan't care a fig for them. There's a new life ahead of us. Well, I
must go back to the auction; now, be a sensible girl."

Lars Peter went over to the barn, where the auction was now being
held. At twelve o'clock the auctioneer stopped. "Now we'll have a
rest, good people, and get something inside us!" he cried. The
people laughed. Lars Peter went up to the auctioneer. Every one knew
what he wanted; they pushed nearer to see the rag and bone man
humiliated. He lifted his dented old hat, and rubbed his tousled
head. "I only wanted to say"--his big voice rang to the furthermost
corners--"that if the auctioneer and his clerk would take us as we
are, there's food and beer indoors--you are welcome to a cup of
coffee too." People nudged one another--who ever heard such
impudence--the rag and bone man to invite an auctioneer to his
table, and his wife a murderess into the bargain! They