anged his
round so that he could either bring or fetch her home.

Granny was always in bed when she arrived--she never got up now.
"Why should I trudge on, when you're not here? If I stay in bed,
then sometimes kind folks remember me and bring me a little food and
clean up for me. Oh, dear! 'twould be much better to die; nobody
wants me," she complained. But she got up all the same, and put on
water for the coffee; Ditte cleaned the room, which was in a
deplorable condition, and they enjoyed themselves together.

When the time was up and Ditte had to go, the old woman cried. Ditte
stood outside listening to her wailings; she held on to the doorpost
trying to pull herself together. She _had_ to go home, and began
running with closed eyes the first part of the way, until she could
hear Granny's cries no longer, then----But she got more and more
sick at heart, and knew no more, until she found herself with her
arms round Granny's neck. "I'm allowed to stay until tomorrow,"
said she.

"You're not playing tricks, child?" said the old woman anxiously.
"For then Soerine'll be angry. Ay, ay," said she shortly afterwards,
"stay until tomorrow then. The Lord'll make it all right for
you--for the sake of your good heart. We don't have much chance of
seeing each other, we two."

The next day it was no better; Maren had not the strength to send
the child away. There was so much to tell her, and what was one day
after the accumulation of months of sorrow and longing? And Ditte
listened seriously to all her woes; she understood now what sorrow
and longing meant. "You've quite changed," said Granny. "I notice it
from the way you listen to me. If only the time would pass quickly
so that you might go out to service."

And one day it was all over; Lars Peter had come to fetch her.
"You'd better come home now," said he, wrapping her up, "the little
ones are crying for you."

"Ay, you're not to be feared," said old Maren. "But it seems like
Soerine might be kinder to her."

"I think it's better now--and the little ones are fond of her. She's
quite a little mother to them."

Yes, there were the children! Ditte's heart warmed at the thought of
them. They had gained her affection in their own peculiar way; by
adding burdens to her little life they had wound themselves round
her heart.

"How's Povl?" asked she, when they had driven over the big hill, and
Granny's hut was out of sight.

"Well, you know, he's always crying when you