"You'd better keep away from the bed," said Lars Peter. "Can't you
see the boy's afraid of you?" His voice trembled with restrained
fury.

"There's many that way," answered the inn-keeper good-naturedly,
moving away from the bed. "And yet I live on, and thrive--and do my
duty as far as I can. Well, I comfort myself with the thought that
the Lord has some reward in store. Perhaps it does folks no harm to
be afraid of something, Lars Peter! But give him the mixture at
once."

"I'd rather fetch the doctor," said Lars Peter, reluctantly giving
the child the medicine. He would have preferred to throw it out of
the window--and the inn-keeper with it.

"Ay, so I understood, but I thought I'd just have a talk to you
first. What good's a doctor? It's only an expense, and he can't
change God's purpose. Poor people should learn to save."

"Ay, of course, when a man's poor he must take things as they come!"
Lars Peter laughed bitterly.

"Up at the inn we never send for the doctor. We put our lives in
God's keeping. If so be it's His will, then----"

"It seems to me there's much that happens that's not His will at
all--and in this place too," said Lars Peter defiantly.

"And yet I'll tell you that not even the smallest cod is caught--in
the hamlet either--without the will of the Father." The inn-keeper's
voice was earnest; it sounded like Scripture itself, but there was a
look in his eyes, which made Lars Peter uncomfortable all the same.
He was quite relieved when this unpleasant guest took his departure
and disappeared over the downs.

Ditte came down from the attic, where she had hidden. "What d'you
want to hide from that hunch-back for?" shouted Lars Peter. He
needed an outlet for his temper. Ditte flushed and turned away her
face.

Soon afterwards a knock sounded on the wall. It was their lame
neighbor. The daughter-in-law was at home, and sat with the twins in
her arms.

"I heard he was in your house," said the old one--"his strong voice
sounded through the walls. You be careful of him!"

"He was very kind," said Ditte evasively. "He spoke kindly to
father, and brought something for little Povl."

"So he brought something--was it medicine? Pour it into the gutter
at once. It can't do any harm there."

"But Povl's had some."

The old woman threw up her hands. "For the love of Jesus! for the
love of Jesus! Poor child!" she wailed. "Did he say anything about
death? They say in the village here every family