Lasse's lips moved as he walked; he was thinking. In an ordinary way
he thought best when he talked out loud to himself, but to-day all
his faculties were alert, and it was enough only to move his lips.

As he trudged along, his mental excuses became audible. "Confound
it!" he exclaimed, as he jerked the sack higher up his back. "It
doesn't do to take the first thing that comes. Lasse's responsible
for two, and he knows what he wants--so there! It isn't the first
time he's been abroad! And the best always comes last, you know,
laddie."

Pelle was not paying much attention. He was already consoled, and
his father's words about the best being in store for them, were
to him only a feeble expression for a great truth, namely, that
the whole world would become theirs, with all that it contained in
the way of wonders. He was already engaged in taking possession of
it, open-mouthed.

He looked as if he would like to swallow the harbor with all its
ships and boats, and the great stacks of timber, where it looked as
if there would be holes. This would be a fine place to play in, but
there were no boys! He wondered whether the boys were like those at
home; he had seen none yet. Perhaps they had quite a different way
of fighting, but he would manage all right if only they would come
one at a time. There was a big ship right up on land, and they were
skinning it. So ships have ribs, just like cows!

At the wooden shed in the middle of the harbor square, Lasse put
down the sack, and giving the boy a piece of bread and telling him