"Riches are nought but a gift from the Lord,
But poverty, that is in truth a reward.
They who wealth do possess
Never know happiness,
While the poor man's heart is ever contented!"

So sang Karna over in the dairy, and indeed it was true! If only
Lasse knew where he was to get the money for a new smock-frock for
the little lad, he would never envy any one on this earth; though
it would be nice to have money for tobacco and a dram now and then,
if it was not unfair to any one else.

Lasse was tidying up the dung-heap. He had finished his midday work
in the stable, and was taking his time about it; it was only a job
he did between whiles. Now and then he glanced furtively up at
the high windows and put a little more energy into his work; but
weariness had the upper hand. He would have liked to take a little
afternoon nap, but did not dare. All was quiet on the farm. Pelle
had been sent on an errand to the village shop for the kitchen-folk,
and all the men were in the fields covering up the last spring corn.
Stone Farm was late with this.

The agricultural pupil now came out of the stable, which he had
entered from the other side, so as to come upon Lasse unexpectedly.
The bailiff had sent him. "Is that you, you nasty spy!" muttered
Lasse when he saw him. "Some day I'll kill you!" But he took off
his cap with the deepest respect. The tall pupil went up the yard
without looking at him, and began to talk nonsense with the maids
down in the wash-house. He wouldn't do that if the men were at home,
the scarecrow!