could quite account for!

All through the long, bright day, the sound of weeping came from
the rooms of Stone Farm, like the refrain of some sad folk-song.
Now at last it had stopped. Lasse was busying himself with little
things in the lower yard, and he still seemed to have the sound in
his ears. It was sad, so sad, with this continual sound of a woman
weeping, as if a child were dead, or as if she were left alone with
her shame. And what could there be to weep for, when you had a farm
of several hundred acres, and lived in a high house with twenty
windows!

"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