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And I must have a little spice. I'm going to try making a cake myself, bought cakes get dry so quickly." "D'you think you can?" said Lars Peter admiringly. "There's more to be got," Ditte continued undisturbed, "but I'd better write it down; or you'll forget half the things like you did last time." "Ay, that's best," answered Lars Peter meekly. "My memory's not as good as it used to be.
It had been arranged that the inn-keeper should help Lars Peter to get a big boat, and let him manage it; at least, so Lars Peter had understood before he moved down to the hamlet. But it had evidently been a great misunderstanding. He went about lending a hand here and there, and replacing any one who was ill. "Just wait a little longer," said the inn-keeper. "It'll be all right in the end!
He had merely to read over a few letters and send off a few brief cablegrams saying nothing in particular. As Lars Larssen had tersely phrased it, he was no longer a "clerk" he was a "business man." And he knew that if he carried out orders faithfully and intelligently, his future with his employer was assured. Larssen had a strong reputation for loyalty to his employees.
His grandfather had made a face at the book and said, "Puir body!" Both ladies seemed to have chosen the same subjects, too: Jephthah's Daughter, Rizpah, David's Lament for Absalom, etc. The doctor found the book very amusing. The Reverend Lars Larsen was a reactionary Swede.
The axe, Hib. Split her skull open!” The axe lay at the Libyan’s feet. One instant, only one, betook his hands from the athlete’s wrists to seize the weapon, but in that instant the yell from all the crew drowned even the howls of Lars.
He gave himself barely time for a proper meal, but was out again at once, in the fields, the barn, the cattle-sheds, or up in the woods where the men were at work. "You'd better get to work on that water-supply," he said. "The ground's workable still, and may stay so for a long time yet. What help will you want?" "Grindhusen can help," I said. "But...." "Yes, and Lars. What were you going to say?"
The roof was not up too much either; the rats and house-martens had worked havoc in it, so that it was like a sieve, and the snow drifted into the loft. It was all bad. Every day Sörine tried to rouse Lars Peter to do something. But what could he do? "I can't work harder than I do, and steal I won't," said he. "What do the others do, who live in a pretty and comfortable house?"
This Lars and the flowers, here, meant quite as much as in the south a serenade under the windows of the fair one. When, toward evening, the carriage for their return drew up before the door, Otto still stood contemplating some old inscriptions which were built into the tower-wall. "That you can look at another time," said Jakoba; "now you must be of use a little!"
"But no tricks now," said he, letting his big hand rest on the creature's back. And this time everything was eaten up. Lars Peter came back and sat under the lantern again. "Old Klavs is wise," said Ditte, "he knows exactly how far to go. But he's very faddy all the same."
Then she would remember Granny's awful fight with Sörine. And Ditte would awaken to find Lars Peter standing over her bed trying to soothe her. She had screamed! He did not leave her until she had fallen asleep again with his huge hand held against her heart, which fluttered like that of a captured bird. At school, she never played, but went about all alone.
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