e home again in the hut on the Naze. "Thank
the Lord, 'tis not your mother we've to look to for our daily
bread," said Granny, when Lars Peter Hansen had taken leave; and
Ditte threw her arms round the old woman's neck and kissed her.
Today she realized fully Granny's true worth.

It had been somewhat of a disappointment. Soerine was not what they
had expected her to be, and her home was not up to much. As far as
Granny found out from Ditte's description, it was more like a
mud-hut, which had been given the name of dwelling-house, barn, etc.
In no way could it be compared with the hut on the Naze.

But the drive had been beautiful.

CHAPTER XII

THE RAG AND BONE MAN

All who knew Lars Peter Hansen agreed that he was a comical fellow.
He was always in a good temper, and really there was no reason why
he should be--especially where he was concerned. He belonged to a
race of rag and bone men, who as far back as any one could remember,
had traded in what others would not touch, and had therefore been
given the name of rag and bone folk. His father drove with dogs and
bought up rags and bones and other unclean refuse; when a sick or
tainted animal had to be done away with he was always sent for. He
was a fellow who never minded what he did, and would bury his arms
up to the elbows in the worst kind of carrion, and then go straight
to his dinner without even rinsing his fingers in water; people
declared that in the middle of the night he would go and dig up the
dead animals and strip them of their skin. His father, it was said,
had gone as a boy to give his uncle a helping hand. As an example of
the boy's depravity, it was said that when the rope would not
tighten round the neck of a man who was being hung, he would climb
up the gallows, drop down on to the unfortunate man's shoulder, and
sit there.

There was not much to inherit, and there was absolutely nothing to
be proud of. Lars Peter had probably felt this, for when quite young
he had turned his back on the home of his childhood. He crossed the
water and tried for work in North Sea land--his ambition was to be a
farmer. He was a steady and respectable fellow, and as strong as a
horse, any farmer would willingly employ him.

But if he thought he could run away from things, he was mistaken.
Rumors of his origin followed faithfully at his heels, and harmed
him at every turn. He might just as well have tried to fly from his
own shadow.

Fortunately it di