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Updated: May 13, 2025
During Lars Peter's absence Ditte and the children showed their uncle round the farm. He was a funny fellow and they very soon made friends. He couldn't be used to anything fine, for he admired everything he saw, and won Ditte's confidence entirely. She had never heard the Crow's Nest and its belongings admired before.
They just managed to scrape along with their sixth share of the catch, and such odd jobs as Sören could do at home. Once again there was a little one to feed and clothe. For the present, of course, Ditte's requirements were small, but her advent had opened out new prospects.
It was the herring season, and their father would stay down at the fishing hamlet often for a month at a time helping with the catch. Sörine was then difficult to get on with; the only thing which kept her within bounds was Ditte's threat of running away. There were not many men left in the neighborhood in the autumn, and Sörine went in daily dread of tramps.
"Suppose she goes to some one else as a pensioner, and leaves everything to them! or fritters away Ditte's two hundred crowns!" said she. "She's in her second childhood!" She was mad on the subject, but Lars Peter let her talk on. "Isn't it true, Ditte, that Granny would be much better with us?" Sörine would continue.
They had not seen Ditte's father for some time, and he might easily have met with an accident, being on the roads night and day in all sorts of weather. It was fortunate that Ditte met children from those parts, who could assure her that all was well. Sörine had never been any good to her mother, although she was her own flesh and blood.
He sat the whole time lightly touching it with his whip, a habit of his, and one without which the horse could not proceed. Should he stop for one moment, while pointing with his whip at the landscape, it would toss its head with impatience and look back greatly to Ditte's enjoyment. "Can't it gallop at all?" asked she, propping herself up between his knees.
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