wiser, and leave me in
peace," she answered, when they came for advice or to fetch her, and
they had to go away with their object unaccomplished, and soon it
was said that Maren had lost her witchcraft.

Yes, her strength diminished, her sight was almost gone, and her
legs refused to carry her. She spun and knitted for people and took
to begging again, Ditte leading her from farm to farm. They were
weary journeys; the old woman always complaining and leaning heavily
on the child's shoulder. Ditte could not understand it at all, the
flowers in the ditches and a hundred other things called her, she
longed to shake off the leaden arm and run about alone, Granny's
everlasting wailing filled her with a hopeless loathing. Then a
mischievous thought would seize her. "I can't find the way, Granny,"
she would suddenly declare, refusing to go a step further, or she
would slip away, hiding herself nearby. Maren scolded and threatened
for a while, but as it had no effect, she would sit down on the edge
of the ditch crying; this softened Ditte and she would hurry back,
putting her arms around her grandmother's neck. Thus they cried
together, in sorrow over the miserable world and joy at having found
each other again.

A little way inland lived a baker, who gave them a loaf of bread
every week. The child was sent for it when Maren was ill in bed.
Ditte was hungry, and this was a great temptation, so she always ran
the whole way home to keep the tempter at bay; when she succeeded in
bringing the bread back untouched, she and her Granny were equally
proud. But it sometimes happened that the pangs of hunger were too
strong, and she would tear out the crump from the side of the warm
bread as she ran. It was not meant to be seen, and for that reason
she took it from the side of the bread--just a little, but before
she knew what had happened the whole loaf was hollowed out. Then she
would be furious, at herself and Granny and everything.

"Here's the bread, Granny," she would say in an offhand voice,
throwing the bread on the table.

"Thank you, dear, is it new?"

"Yes, Granny," and Ditte disappeared.

Thereupon the old woman would sit gnawing the crust with her sore
gums, all the while grumbling at the child. Wicked girl--she should
be whipped. She should be turned out, to the workhouse.

To their minds there was nothing worse than the workhouse; in all
their existence, it had been as a sword over their heads, and when
brought f