her take Louise
over to stay with her."

"No!" Merle flung out. "No, Peer. Surely you said no at once. Surely you
wouldn't let her go. You know what it means, their wanting to have her
over there."

"I know," he nodded. "But there's another question: in Louise's own
interest, have we any right to say no?"

"Peer," she cried, springing up and wringing her hands, "you mustn't ask
it of me. You don't want to do it yourself. Surely we have not come to
that--to begin sending--giving away--no, no, no!" she moaned. "Do you
hear me, Peer? I cannot do it."

"As you please, Merle," he said, rising, and forcing himself to speak
calmly. "We can think it over, at any rate, till your brother leaves
tomorrow. There are two sides to the thing: one way of it may hurt us
now; the other way may be a very serious matter for Louise, poor thing."

Next morning, when it was time to wake the children, Peer and Merle
went into the nursery together. They stopped by Louise's bed, and stood
looking down at her. The child had grown a great deal since they came
to Raastad; she lay now with her nose buried in the pillow and the fair
hair hiding her cheek. She slept so soundly and securely. This was home
to her still; she was safer with father and mother than anywhere else in
the world.

"Louise," said Merle, shaking her. "Time to get up, dear."

The child sat up, still half asleep, and looked wonderingly at the two
faces. What was it?

"Make haste and get dressed," said Peer. "Fancy! You're going off with
Uncle Carsten today, to see Aunt Marit at Bruseth. What do you say to
that?"

The little girl was wide awake in a moment, and hopped out of bed at
once to begin dressing. But there was something in her parents' faces
which a little subdued her joy.

That morning there was much whispering among the children. The two
youngest looked with wondering eyes at their elder sister, who was going
away. Little Lorentz gave her his horse as a keepsake, and Asta gave her
youngest doll. And Merle went about trying to make believe that Louise
was only going on a short visit, and would soon be coming back.

By dinner-time they had packed a little trunk, and Louise, in her
best dress, was rushing about saying goodbye all round the farm, the
harvesters, whom she had helped to drive in the hay, coming in for a
specially affectionate farewell. Her last visit was to Musin, the grey
horse, that was grazing tethered behind the smithy. Musin was busy
croppin