all upon one card. When he had secured the cap, and turned his back
upon the House, he sent a horrible grimace down the yard.

Bodil now came up from the basement in her best Sunday clothes, with
a black silk handkerchief on her head and a hymn-book in her hand.
How pretty she was! And brave! She went along the whole length of
the House and out! But then she could get a kiss from the farmer
any day she liked.

Outside the farm proper lay a number of large and small outbuildings
--the calves' stable, the pigsties, the tool-shed, the cart-shed
and a smithy that was no longer used. They were all like so many
mysteries, with trap-doors that led down to pitch-dark, underground
beet and potato cellars, from which, of course, you could get by
secret passages to the strangest places underground, and other
trap-doors that led up to dark lofts, where the most wonderful
treasures were preserved in the form of old lumber.

But Pelle unfortunately had little time to go into all this. Every
day he had to help his father to look after the cattle, and with so
large a herd, the work was almost beyond their power. If he had a
moment's breathing-space, some one was sure to be after him. He had
to fetch water for the laundry girls, to grease the pupil's boots
and run to the village shop for spirits or chewing-tobacco for the
men. There was plenty to play with, but no one could bear to see him
playing; they were always whistling for him as if he were a dog.

He tried to make up for it by turning his work into a game, and in
many instances this was possible. Watering the cattle, for instance,
was more fun than any real game, when his father stood out in the