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"But the very first thing you need for that is to be properly confirmed. You'd better take your books and learn your lesson for the priest, so that you don't get refused! I'll do the rest of the foddering." Pelle took his books and seated himself in the foddering-passage just in front of the big bull. He read in an undertone, and Lasse passed up and down at his work.
"Then we'll go to America, and dig for gold!" "Ye-es, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all. But it would take a good many more half-krones to make that journey." "Then we can set up as stone-masons." Lasse stood still in the middle of the foddering-passage, and pondered with bent head.
Pelle liked this subdued murmur that he did not need to listen to or answer, and that was so pleasant to doze off in. He lay looking out sleepily at the bright sky, tired and with a vague feeling of something unpleasant that was past. Suddenly he started. He had heard the door of the cow-stable open, and steps upon the long foddering-passage. It was the pupil. He recognized the hated step at once.
There was a sense of security in the sound of his father's wooden shoes up and down the foddering-passage. Out of the open half-doors of the smaller outbuildings there came a steamy warmth that smelt pleasantly of calves and pigs. The pigs were hard at work. All through the long sty there was munching and smacking.
"But the very first thing you need for that is to be properly confirmed. You'd better take your books and learn your lesson for the priest, so that you don't get refused! I'll do the rest of the foddering." Pelle took his books and seated himself in the foddering-passage just in front of the big bull. He read in an undertone, and Lasse passed up and down at his work.
He strolled along the foddering-passage without aim or object. Lasse came up and took his hand. "You'd better stay here a little longer," he said. "We're so comfortable." But this put life into Pelle. He fixed his big, faithful eyes upon his father, and then went down to their room. Lasse followed him.
He strolled along the foddering-passage without aim or object. Lasse came up and took his hand. "You'd better stay here a little longer," he said. "We're so comfortable." But this put life into Pelle. He fixed his big, faithful eyes upon his father, and then went down to their room. Lasse followed him.
There was a sense of security in the sound of his father's wooden shoes up and down the foddering-passage. Out of the open half-doors of the smaller outbuildings there came a steamy warmth that smelt pleasantly of calves and pigs. The pigs were hard at work. All through the long sty there was munching and smacking.
Pelle liked this subdued murmur that he did not need to listen to or answer, and that was so pleasant to doze off in. He lay looking out sleepily at the bright sky, tired and with a vague feeling of something unpleasant that was past. Suddenly he started. He had heard the door of the cow-stable open, and steps upon the long foddering-passage. It was the pupil. He recognized the hated step at once.
"Then we'll go to America, and dig for gold!" "Ye-es, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all. But it would take a good many more half-krones to make that journey." "Then we can set up as stone-masons." Lasse stood still in the middle of the foddering-passage, and pondered with bent head.
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