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Updated: May 12, 2025
"'Tite Poulette," the daughter was called; she never went out alone. And who was this Madame John? "Why, you know! she was" said the wig-maker at the corner to Kristian Koppig "I'll tell you. You know? she was" and the rest atomized off in a rasping whisper. She was the best yellow-fever nurse in a thousand yards round; but that is not what the wig-maker said.
"Yes, but not any one else," Ditte impressed upon them. "Now remember that!" The two little ones were put into the wheelbarrow, and Kristian held on to the side, and thus they set off. There was snow everywhere, the bushes were weighted down with it, and on the cart track the ice cracked under the wheel.
Take him altogether, to those who were not intimately associated with him, and did not share the strong dislike felt against him in certain circles, he was chiefly a handsome and attractive antiquity. Kristian Moeller died in 1869, and his death was deeply lamented. He was one of the few comrades admired by the younger ones alike for his gifts and his stoicism.
She looked very mysterious as she gave them their coffee; and when the time came for them to be dressed, the surprise came out. "Oh, we're going to have our best clothes on hip, hip, hooray!" shouted Kristian, beginning to jump up and down on the bed. Ditte smacked him, he was spoiling the bedclothes!
"You look like a pig," said he, "you must have been rolling on the muddy road. Go indoors quietly or you'll be sorry for it. No fault of yours that you're not a murderer today." Johannes was led in, and set down in the rush-bottomed armchair beside the fire. The children were sent out of doors, and Ditte and Kristian ordered to harness Uncle Johannes' horse.
It was her nature to take an interest in most things, though, unlike Kristian, she didn't care to roam about. He was never still for a moment; he had barely found out what was behind one hill, before he went on to the next. He always wanted to see beyond the horizon, and his father always said, he might travel round the whole world that way, for the horizon was always changing.
The children came home with sparkling eyes, and quieter than usual, to tell Ditte all about it. The following day, Ditte went about pondering how she could do the old people a service for their kindness towards the children, and, as she could think of nothing, she took Kristian into her confidence. He was so clever in finding ways out of difficulties.
One night, on the mother's return, Kristian Koppig coming to his room nearly at the same moment, there was much earnest conversation, which he could see, but not hear. "'Tite Poulette," said Madame John, "you are seventeen." "True, Maman." "Ah! my child, I see not how you are to meet the future." The voice trembled plaintively. "But how, Maman?"
Presently Madame John returned with a little bundle, and they hurried off together. And now what did this mean? Why, by any one of ordinary acuteness the matter was easily understood, but, to tell the truth, Kristian Koppig was a trifle dull, and got the idea at once that some damage was being planned against 'Tite Poulette.
Did you hear that, father?" she said, nodding her withered old head. Kristian thought he too ought to show his appreciation. "If you want any errands done, only tell me," said he, throwing back his head. "I can run ever so fast." And to show how clever he was on his legs, he rushed down the path. A little way down, he turned triumphantly. "As quick as that," he shouted.
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