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Maren ran out on the hills with anxious eyes. She found Ditte playing in the midst of a patch of wild pansies, fortunately Maren could find no hole in the ground. But the old rotten rope had parted. Sören, unsteady on his feet, had probably fallen backwards and hurt himself. Maren knotted the rope together again and went towards the little one.
After all it was she who was right; had she not always said there was refinement in Sörine? There was blue blood in the girl! One day, Sören had to put on his best clothes and off he went to Sands farm. "'Twas with child she was, after all," said he, going straight to the point. "'Tis just born."
And was it not yourself that fed her with soft soap and paraffin?" "Maybe 'twas," answered Maren, unmoved. Sören looked at her with surprise: well to be sure but behind her look of innocence gleamed something which staggered him for once. "Ay, ay," said he. "Ay, ay! 'twas nigh jail that time." Maren good-naturedly blinked her heavy eyelids.
Then Maren gave in, and as she could not leave Sören alone for long, she ran as fast as she could to the hamlet, where one of the women dressed her thin gray hair in bridal fashion. On her return she found Sören restless, but he soon calmed down; he looked at her a long time, as she sat crying by the bed with his hand in hers. He was breathing with much difficulty.
No, and there were no men about while the tailor was being made. A woman stood in a draught at the front door, and there she brought forth the tailor." The baker could not stop himself when once he began to quiz anybody; now that Soren was married, he had recovered all his good spirits. Bjerregrav could not beat this. "You can say what you like about tailors," he succeeded in saying at last.
"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.
My father was stocking-weaver to the Court." "And consequently you have married a governmental official," said Holberg, and made a bow to her and to the collector. It was on Twelfth Night, the evening of the festival of the Three Kings, Mother Soren lit up for Holberg a three-king candle, that is, a tallow candle with three wicks, which she had herself prepared.
Goaded by the pangs of conscience, Niels had gone to Rosmer and made himself known to the judge as the true Niels Bruus. Upon the hearing of the terrible truth, the judge was taken with a stroke and died before the week was out. But on Tuesday morning they found Niels Bruus dead on the grave of the late rector Soren Quist of Veilbye, by the door of Aalso church. Hungarian Mystery Stories
But whether it was that the luck was against him, or, more probably, that his income was really too small to support a wife and five children in any case, his financial position went from bad to worse. Every place in life seems filled to the uttermost, and yet there are people who make their way everywhere. Sören did not belong to this class.
Sören bit his pen and looked interested. "Let us assume," continued his principal, "that, thanks to your economy, you can set up house without getting into any debt worth speaking of. Then you'll have your salary clear, and whatever you can earn in addition by extra work.
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