now.

The rag and bone man had no superstition of any kind, or fear
either, it was the only bright touch in the darkness of his race
that they possessed; this property caused them to be outcasts--and
decided their trade. Those who are not haunted, haunt others.

The only curse he knew, was the curse of being an outcast and
feared; and this, thank the Lord, had been removed where he was
concerned. He did not believe in persecution from a dead man. But he
understood the serious effect it had upon Hansine, and was much
troubled on her account. Before going to bed, he took down the
trap-door and hid it under the roof.

Thus they had children one after the other, and with it trouble and
depression. Instead of becoming better it grew worse with each one;
and as much as Lars Peter loved his children, he hoped each one
would be the last. The children themselves bore no mark of having
been carried under a heart full of fear. They were like small
shining suns, who encircled him all day long from the moment they
could move. They added enjoyment to his work, and as each new one
made its appearance, he received it as a gift of God. His huge fists
entirely covered the newly born babe, when handed to him by the
midwife--looking in its swaddling clothes like the leg of a boot--as
he lifted it to the ceiling. His voice in its joy was like the deep
chime of a bell, and the babe's head rolled from side to side, while
blinking its eyes at the light. Never had any one been so grateful
for children, wife and everything else as Lars Peter. He was filled
with admiration for them all, it was a glorious world.

He did not exactly make headway on his little farm. It was poor
land, and Lars Peter was said to be unlucky. Either he lost an
animal or the crop was spoiled by hail. Other people kept an account
of these accidents, Lars Peter himself had no feeling of being
treated badly. On the contrary he was thankful for his farm, and
toiled patiently on it. Nothing affected him.

When Hansine was to have her fifth child, she was worse than ever.
She had made him put up the trap-door again, on the pretense that
she could not stay in the kitchen for the draught, and she would be
nowhere else but there--she was waiting for the tap. She complained
no longer nor on the whole was she anxious either. It was as if she
had learned to endure what could not be evaded; she was
absent-minded, and Lars Peter had the sad feeling that she no longer
belonged t