had already, at Whitsuntide, provided themselves with what they
needed for the summer, and out in the country people had other
things to think about than trapesing into town with work for the
artisans; the coming harvest occupied all their thoughts. Even in
the poorest quarters, where no work was done for the peasants, one
realized how utterly dependent the little town was upon the country.
It was as though the town had in a moment forgotten its superiority;
the manual workers no longer looked down on the peasants; they
looked longingly toward the fields, spoke of the weather and the
prospects of harvest, and had forgotten all their urban interests.
If by exception a farmer's cart came through the streets, people
ran to the window to look after it. And as the harvest stood almost
at their doors, it seemed as though old memories were calling to
them, and they raised their heads to listen; those who could gave up
their town life and went into the country to help in the work of
harvest. Both the journeyman and the two apprentices had left the
workshop; Jens and Pelle could comfortably manage the work.

Pelle saw nothing of this stagnant mood; he was occupied on all
sides in keeping a whole skin and getting the utmost out of life;
there were thousands of impressions of good and evil which had to be
assimilated, and which made a balanced whole--that remarkable thing,
the town, of which Pelle never knew whether he felt inclined to
bless it or curse it,--or it always held him in suspense.

And amidst all his activities, Lasse's face rose up before him and
made him feel lonely in the midst of the bustle. Wherever could
Father Lasse be? Would he ever hear of him again? Every day he had
expected, in reliance on Karna's word, to see him blundering in at
the door, and when anybody fumbled at the door-knocker he felt quite