swarms that were going away--but that did not concern Pelle. For
seven years ago he had felt everything that made their faces look
so troubled now; what they were just entering upon he had already
put behind him. So there was no good in looking back.

Presently the old man from Neuendorf came along the road. He was got
up quite like an American, with a portmanteau and a silk neckerchief,
and the inside pockets of his open coat were stuffed full of papers.
At last he had made up his mind, and was going out to his betrothed,
who had already been three years away.

"Hullo!" cried Pelle, "so you are going away?"

The man came over to Pelle and set his portmanteau down by the side
of the ditch.

"Well, yes; it's time to be going," he said. "Laura won't wait for
me any longer. So the old people must see how they can get along
without a son; I've done everything for them now for three years.
Provided they can manage all by themselves--"

"They can do that all right," said Pelle, with an experienced air.
"And they had to get help formerly. There is no future for young
people at home." He had heard his elders say this. He struck at the
grass with his stick, assuming a superior air.

"No," said the other, "and Laura refuses to be a cottager's wife.
Well, good-bye!" He held out his hand to Pelle and tried to smile,
but his features had it their own way; nothing but a rather twisted
expression came over them. He stood there a minute, looking at his