"Besides, they owe us lots of other things that they've borrowed
of us." Pelle showed circumspection in his dealings.

"What a rogue!" said the master, and he settled himself to read.
"Lord above us, what a gallows-bird!" He looked extremely contented.

And after a time it was once more, "Pelle, run out, etc."

The day was largely passed in running errands, and Pelle was not
one to curtail them; he had no liking for the smelly workshop and
its wooden chairs. There was so much to be fetched and carried, and
Pelle considered these errands to be his especial duty; when he had
nothing else to do he roved about like a young puppy, and thrust his
nose into everything. Already the town had no more secrets from him.

There was in Pelle an honorable streak which subdued the whole.
But hitherto he had suffered only defeat; he had again and again
sacrificed his qualities and accomplishments, without so far
receiving anything in return. His timidity and distrust he had
stripped from him indoors, where it was of importance that he should
open his defences on all sides, and his solid qualities he was on
the point of sacrificing on the altar of the town as boorish. But
the less protection he possessed the more he gained in intrepidity,
so he went about out-of-doors undauntedly--the town should be
conquered. He was enticed out of the safe refuge of his shell,
and might easily be gobbled up.

The town had lured him from the security of his lair, but in other
matters he was the same good little fellow--most people would have
seen no difference in him, except that he had grown taller. But