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Maren pushed open the door to the inner room. "D'you hear that, Ditte, your father's going to throttle me." Anders Olsen turned away from her and went towards the door. He stood a moment fumbling with the door handle, as if not knowing what he did; then came back, and sank down on the woodbox, gazing at the clay floor.
Or perhaps away to something still better; something unknown, which was in store for her somewhere or other. Ditte never doubted but that there was something special in reserve for her, so glorious that it was impossible even to imagine it.
"No, to the forest," said the little sister, stroking Ditte's cheeks beseechingly with her dirty little hands, which were blue with cold. She had seen it from afar, and longed to go there. "Yes, to the forest. But you must be good; it's a long way." "May we tell pussy?" Söster looked at Ditte with her big expressive eyes. "Yes, and papa," Kristian joined in with.
"Hobble!" said he, looking roguishly at her; he was in high spirits. Kristian and Else laughed. "No, now answer properly," said Ditte seriously; she did not allow fun when correcting them. "Say, 'thank you, dear' well?" "Thank you, dear lump!" said the youth, laughing immoderately. "Oh, you're mad today," said Ditte, lifting him down.
But the distance between them only increased; at last she disappeared altogether from view. He stood a little longer shouting; his voice resounded in the stillness of the night; and then turned round and went home. Ditte tore on through the moonlit country.
The thought of leaving did not make things better. Everything was at a standstill. It was no good doing anything until he began his new life whatever that might be. He and Ditte talked it over together. She would be glad to leave, and did not mind where they went. She had nothing to lose. A new life offered at least the chance of a more promising future.
They were so poor that in the winter they never had anything to eat but herrings and potatoes, and it delighted Ditte to give them a really good meal: sandwiches of the best, and bottles of beer out of which the cork popped and the froth overflowed. Lars Peter stood by the water-trough where Klavs was drinking his fill.
They were thankful to be home again in the hut on the Naze. "Thank the Lord, 'tis not your mother we've to look to for our daily bread," said Granny, when Lars Peter Hansen had taken leave; and Ditte threw her arms round the old woman's neck and kissed her. Today she realized fully Granny's true worth. It had been somewhat of a disappointment.
She was white-haired and wrinkled and had spectacles on her nose; and wore a white nightcap in spite of it being the middle of the day. "This is our Granny!" said one of the ladies. "Grandmother, look, we have caught a little wood goblin," they shouted into the old lady's ear. Just think, this Granny was deaf her own was only blind. Ditte went round peeping inquisitively into the different rooms.
"But 'tis not to be wondered at, after all." The allusion to the fact that her mother had been a "wise woman" did not please Maren at all. But the bacon and the herrings came to an empty cupboard, and as Sören said: "Beggars cannot be choosers and must swallow their pride with their food." Ditte shot up like a young plant, day by day putting forth new leaves.
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