"No," said she, "I only want a hole for his head in the shirt."

The man called out and, struggling, cried--

"Heaven preserve and comfort all such as have new shirts! If any one
would only teach my wife some new way to make a head-hole in them I
would gladly give him three hundred dollars."

"That shall soon be done. Give me a pair of scissors," said the other.

The woman gave him the scissors, and he cut a hole in the shirt for the
man's head to go through, and took the three hundred dollars.

"That is number two," said he to himself.

After some time he came to a farm-house, where he thought he would rest
a while. When he went in the woman said--

"Where do you come from, father?"

"I am from Ringerige (Paradise)," said he.

"Ah! dear, dear! Are you from Himmerige (Heaven)?" said she. "Then you
will know my second husband, Peter; happy may he be!"

The woman had had three husbands. The first and third had been bad and
had used her ill, but the second had used her well, so she counted him
as safe.

"Yes," said the man, "I know him well."