annibal islands doesn't catch sight of you," she shouted after
them, putting her head out of the door, but they neither heard nor
saw.

She went outside, and stood gazing after them, as they tore along,
kicking up the sand. Oh dear, Povl had dropped his bread and
dripping in the sand--but he picked it up again and ran on, eating
as he went. "It'll clean him inside," said Ditte, laughing to
herself. They were mad, simply mad--digging in the sand and racing
about! They had never been like this before.

She was glad of the change herself. Even if there had been any
opportunity, she could not play; all desires had died long ago. But
there was much of interest. All these crooked, broken-down
moss-grown huts, clustered together on the downs under the high
cliffs, each surrounded by its dust-heap and fish-refuse and
implements, were to Ditte like so many different worlds; she would
have liked to investigate them all.

It was her nature to take an interest in most things, though, unlike
Kristian, she didn't care to roam about. He was never still for a
moment; he had barely found out what was behind one hill, before he
went on to the next. He always wanted to see beyond the horizon, and
his father always said, he might travel round the whole world that
way, for the horizon was always changing. Lars Peter often teased
him about this; it became quite a fairy tale to the restless
Kristian, who wanted to go over the top of every new hill he saw,
until at last he fell down in the hamlet again--right down into
Ditte's stew-pan. He had often been punished for his roaming--but to
no good. Povl wanted to pick everything to pieces, to see what was
inside, or was busy with hammer and nails. He was already nearly as
clever with his hands as Kristian. Most of what he made went to
pieces, but if a handle came off a brush, he would quickly mend it
again. "He only pulls things to pieces so as to have something to
mend again," said his father. Sister stood looking on with her big
eyes.

Ditte was always doing something useful, otherwise she was not
happy. With Granny's death, all her interest in the far-off had
vanished; that there was something good in store for her she never
doubted, it acted as a star and took away the bitterness of her
gloomy childhood. She was not conscious of what it would be, but it
was always there like a gleam of light. The good in store for her
would surely find her. She stayed at home; the outside world had no