eartily as he said this.

"I believe you think it will be fun to sell this place, upon which we
have expended such a lot of time and hard work," protested the mother.

"Oh, you know why I'm laughing," the father retorted. "It was the
thought of the boy's having gone to the bad that weighed me down until I
had no strength or courage left in me. Now that I know he still lives
and has turned out well, you'll see that Holger Nilsson has some grit
left."

The mother went in alone, and the boy made haste to hide in a corner,
for his father walked into the stable. He went over to the horse and
examined its hoof, as usual, to try to discover what was wrong with it.

"What's this!" he cried, discovering some letters scratched on the
hoof.

"Remove the sharp piece of iron from the foot," he read and glanced
around inquiringly. However, he ran his fingers along the under side of
the hoof and looked at it carefully.

"I verily believe there is something sharp here!" he said.

While his father was busy with the horse and the boy sat huddled in a
corner, it happened that other callers came to the farm.

The fact was that when Morten Goosey-Gander found himself so near his
old home he simply could not resist the temptation of showing his wife
and children to his old companions on the farm. So he took Dunfin and
the goslings along, and made for home.

There was not a soul in the barn yard when the goosey-gander came along.
He alighted, confidently walked all around the place, and showed Dunfin
how luxuriously he had lived when he was a tame goose.

When they had viewed the entire farm, he noticed that the door of the
cow shed was open.

"Look in here a moment," he said, "then you will see how I lived in
former days. It was very different from camping in swamps and morasses,
as we do now."

The goosey-gander stood in the doorway and looked into the cow shed.

"There's not a soul in here," he said. "Come along, Dunfin, and you
shall see the goose pen. Don't be afraid; there's no danger."

Forthwith the goosey-gander, Dunfin, and all six goslings waddled into
the goose pen, to have a look at the elegance and comfort in which the
big white gander had lived before he joined the wild geese.

"This is the way it used to be: here was my place and over there was the
trough, which was always filled with oats and water," explained the
goosey-gander.

"Wait! there's some fodder in it now." With that he rushed to the trough
and