"Father!" said Arne.
"Oh dear! how shriveled up and thin you have grown. There is not much flesh here. Tickle, tickle."
The mother convulsively seized his hand with both of hers, but could not free herself, and so rolled herself into a ball.
"Father!" said Arne.
"So life has come into you now. How she writhes, the fright! Tickle, tickle!"
"Father!" said Arne. The room seemed to swim about him.
"Tickle, I say!"
She let go his hands and gave up.
"Father!" shouted Arne. He sprang to the corner, where stood an axe.
"It is only from obstinacy that you do not scream. You had better not do so either; I have taken such a frightful fancy. Tickle, tickle!"