spent a penny of it, but put it by, shilling by
shilling, towards building the new house. They must try hard to make
enough, so that Lars Peter could work at home instead of hawking his
goods on the road. As long as the people had the right to call him
rag and bone man, it was natural they should show no respect. Land
they must have, and for this, money was necessary.

Money! money! That word was always in Soerine's mind and humming in
her ears. She scraped together shilling after shilling, and yet the
end was far from being in sight, unless something unexpected
happened. And what could happen to shorten the wearisome way to her
goal, only one thing--that her mother should die. She had really
lived long enough and been a burden to others. Soerine thought it was
quite time she departed, but no such luck.

It happened that Lars Peter returned one day in the middle of the
afternoon. The shabby turn-out could be seen from afar. The cart
rocked with every turn of the wheels, creaking and groaning as it
was dragged along. It was as if all the parts of the cart spoke and
sang at once, and when the children heard the well-known noise along
the road, they would rush out, full of excitement. The old nag,
which grew more and more like a wandering bag of bones, snorted and
puffed, and rumbled, as if all the winds from the four corners of
the earth were locked in its belly. And Lars Peter's deep hum joined
the happy chorus.

When the horse saw the little ones, it whinnied; Lars Peter raised
himself from his stooping position and stopped singing, and the cart
came to a standstill. He lifted them up in the air, all three or
four together in a bunch, held them up to the sky for a moment, and
put them into the cart as carefully as if they were made of glass.
The one who had seen him first was allowed to hold the reins.

When Lars Peter came home and found Soerine in a temper and the house
upside down, he was not disturbed at all, but soon cheered them all
up. He always brought something home with him, peppermints for the
children, a new shawl for mother--and perhaps love from Granny to
Ditte, whispering it to her so that Soerine could not hear. His good
humor was infectious; the children forgot their grievances, and even
Soerine had to laugh whether she wanted to or not. And if the
children were fond of him, so too were the animals. They would
welcome him with their different cries and run to meet him; he
could let the pig out and