k with a piece of string at the
end--but he tried to do it, and the old nag answered by throwing
back its head and whinnying. It was the same cart as before, but a
seat with a green upholstered back, from which the stuffing
protruded, had been put on. His big battered hat was the same too,
it was shiny from age and full of dust, and with bits of straw and
spiders' webs in the dents. From underneath it his tousled hair
showed, so covered with dust and burrs and other things that the
birds of the air might be tempted to build their nests in it.

"Now, what do you say to a little drive today?" he shouted gaily, as
he tramped in. "I've brought fine weather with me, what?"

He might easily do that, for even yesterday Granny had seen to it
that the weather should be fine, although she knew nothing of this.
Last evening she touched the dew on the window-pane with her hand
and had said: "There's dew for the morning sun to sparkle on."

Lars Peter Hansen had to wait, while Ditte lit the fire and made
coffee for him. "What a clever girl you are," he burst out, as she
put it in front of him, "you must have a kiss." He took her in his
arms and kissed her; Ditte put her face against his rough cheek and
did not speak a word. Suddenly he realized his cheek was wet, and
turned her face toward his. "Have I hurt you?" he asked alarmed, and
put her down.

"Nay, never a bit," said the old woman. "The child has been looking
forward to a kiss from her father, and now it has come to
pass--little as it is. You let her have her cry out; childish tears
only wet the cheeks."

But Lars Peter Hansen went into the peat shed, where he found Ditte
sobbing. Gently raising her, he dried her cheeks with his checked
handkerchief, which looked as if it had been out many times before
today.

"We'll be friends sure enough, we two--we'll be friends sure
enough," he repeated soothingly. His deep voice comforted the child,
she took his hand and followed him back again.

Granny, who was very fond of coffee, though she would never say so,
had seized the opportunity to take an extra cup while they were out.
In her haste to pour it out, some had been spilt on the table, and
now she was trying to wipe it up in the hope it might not be seen.
Ditte helped her to take off her apron, and washed her skirt with a
wet cloth, so that it should not leave a mark; she looked quite
motherly. She herself would have no coffee, she was so overwhelmed
with happiness, that