o you,"
said she, "and wish you better luck in your new home than you've had
here. You've not had much of a time, have you?"

"No, and the little good we've had's no thanks to any one here,"
said Lars Peter.

"Folks haven't treated you as they ought to have done, and I've been
no better than the rest, but 'tis our way. We farmers can't bear the
poor. Don't think too badly of us. Good luck to you!" She said
good-by to all the children with the same wish. Many of the people
made off, but one or two followed her example, and shook hands with
them.

Lars Peter stood looking after them, the children by his side.
"After all, folk are often better than a man gives them credit for,"
said he. He was not a little moved.

They loaded the cart with their possessions, so as to make an early
start the next morning. It was some distance to the fishing-hamlet,
and it was better to get off in good time, to settle down a little
before night. Then they went to bed; they were tired out after their
long eventful day; they slept on the hay in the barn, as the
bedclothes were packed.

The next morning was a wonderful day to waken up to. They were
dressed when they wakened, and had only to dip their faces in the
water-trough in the yard. Already they felt a sensation of something
new and pleasant. There was only the coffee to be drunk, and the cow
to be taken to the neighbor's, and they were ready to get into the
cart. Klavs was in the shafts, and on top of the high load they put
the pig, the hens and the three little ones. It was a wonderful
beginning to the new life.

Lars Peter was the only one who felt sad. He made an excuse to go
over the property again, and stood behind the barn, gazing over the
fields. Here he had toiled and striven through good and bad; every
ditch was dear to him--he knew every stone in the fields, every
crack in the walls. What would the future bring? Lars Peter had
begun afresh before, but never with less inclination than now. His
thoughts turned to bygone days.

The children, on the contrary, thought only of the future. Ditte had
to tell them about the beach, as she remembered it from her
childhood with Granny, and they promised themselves delightful times
in their new home.

CHAPTER IX

A DEATH

The winter was cold and long. Lars Peter had counted on getting a
share in a boat, but there seemed to be no vacancy, and each time he
reminded the inn-keeper of his promise, he was put off with tal