Pelle lay there for a time as though he had not heard Karna. Then he
sat up, feeling very cross and got into the shirt. "No, stay there
until you've drunk your coffee," she said as he attempted to get up,
and she placed a stool by him. And so Pelle had his coffee in bed,
as he had dreamed it was to happen when Father Lasse remarried;
and he could not go on feeling angry. But he was still burning with
shame, and that made him taciturn.

During the morning Lasse and Pelle went out and inspected
the property.

"It'll be best if we go round it first; then you will see plainly
where the boundary lies," said Lasse, who knew that the dimensions
of the place would be a surprise to Pelle. They wandered through
heather and brambles and thorns, striking across the moorland and
skirting precipitous slopes. It was several hours before they had
finished their round.

"It's an awfully large holding," Pelle said again and again.

And Lasse answered proudly. "Yes, there's nearly seventy acres
here--if only it were all tilled!"

It was virgin soil, but it was overrun with heather and juniper-
scrub, through which brambles and honeysuckle twined their way.
Halfway up a perpendicular wall of rock hung the ash and the wild
cherry, gripping the bare cliff with roots that looked like crippled
hands. Crab-apple trees, sloe-bushes and wild rose-briars made an
impenetrable jungle, which already bore traces of Lasse's exertions.