"When's Mother coming out?" asked Ditte, suddenly coming towards him.
Lars Peter took up a calendar. "As far as I can make out, there's still another year," he said quietly. "D'you want to see her too?"
Ditte made no answer. Shortly afterwards she asked him: "D'you think she's altered?"
"You're thinking of the little ones, I suppose. I think she cares a little more for them now. Want makes a good teacher. You must go to bed now, you'll have to be up early in the morning, and it's a long way. Let Kristian go with you—and let him carry your bundle as far as he goes. It'll be a tiresome way for you. I'm sorry I can't go with you!"
"Oh, I shall be all right," said Ditte, trying to speak cheerfully, but her voice broke, and suddenly she threw her arms round him.
Lars Peter stayed beside her until she had fallen asleep, then went up to bed himself. From the attic he could hear her softly moaning in her sleep.
At midnight he came downstairs again, he was in oilskins and carried a lantern. The light shone on the bed—all four were asleep. But Ditte was tossing restlessly, fighting with something in her dreams. "Sister must eat her dinner," she moaned, "it'll never do ... she'll get so thin."
"Ay, ay," said Lars Peter with emotion. "Father'll see she gets enough to eat."
Carefully he covered them up, and went down to the sea.