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It was Nilen's brother. "It wouldn't sound right if I stopped you from going, my son," said "the Mormon." "But can two of you do more than one?" "Niels and I were at school together and have always been friends," answered the young man, looking into his father's face. Then he moved away, and a little farther off began to run to catch up Niels. The fishermen looked after them in silence.
Fris walked up and down the middle passage like a pardoned offender. He did not dare to raise his eyes, but they could all see that he was crying. "It's a shame!" said a voice in an undertone. All eyes were turned upon him, and there was perfect silence in the room. "Play-time!" cried a boy's voice in a tone of command: it was Nilen's. Fris nodded feebly, and they rushed out.
But then a wonderful thing happens; the apparition leaps down into the gutter, slings the boys to one side, and helps him to his feet. Pelle recognizes the grip of those fingers even in his schooldays they were like claws of iron. And soon he is sitting behind the oven, on Nilen's grimy bed.
"To-night I shall go out and meet my girl," they would say, laughing. Little Nikas said nothing at all. Pelle had no friends to give him work, and he could not have done much. If the others had much to do after work-hours or on Sundays he had to help them; but he gained nothing by so doing. And he also had Nilen's shoes to keep mended, for old acquaintances' sake.
"To-night I shall go out and meet my girl," they would say, laughing. Little Nikas said nothing at all. Pelle had no friends to give him work, and he could not have done much. If the others had much to do after work-hours or on Sundays he had to help them; but he gained nothing by so doing. And he also had Nilen's shoes to keep mended, for old acquaintances' sake.
It was Nilen's brother. "It wouldn't sound right if I stopped you from going, my son," said "the Mormon." "But can two of you do more than one?" "Niels and I were at school together and have always been friends," answered the young man, looking into his father's face. Then he moved away, and a little farther off began to run to catch up Niels. The fishermen looked after them in silence.
But then a wonderful thing happens; the apparition leaps down into the gutter, slings the boys to one side, and helps him to his feet. Pelle recognizes the grip of those fingers even in his schooldays they were like claws of iron. And soon he is sitting behind the oven, on Nilen's grimy bed.
Fris walked up and down the middle passage like a pardoned offender. He did not dare to raise his eyes, but they could all see that he was crying. "It's a shame!" said a voice in an undertone. All eyes were turned upon him, and there was perfect silence in the room. "Play-time!" cried a boy's voice in a tone of command: it was Nilen's. Fris nodded feebly, and they rushed out.
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