“Then she’s dainty—our poor food isn’t good enough for her. She takes after her father, I can tell you! And what’s more, if she isn’t naughty now she soon will be when once she sees she’s backed up.”
Due did not reply. “Are you quite well again now?” he asked, turning to Pelle.
“What have you been doing to-day?” asked Anna, filling her husband’s long pipe.
“I had to drive a forest ranger from up yonder right across the whole of the moor. I got a krone and a half for a tip.”
“Give it to me, right away!”
Due passed her the money, and she put it into an old coffeepot. “This evening you must take the bucket to the inspector’s,” she said.
Due stretched himself wearily. “I’ve been on the go since half-past four this morning,” he said.
“But I’ve promised it faithfully, so there’s nothing else to be done. And then I thought you’d see to the digging for them this autumn; you can see when we’ve got the moonlight, and then there’s Sundays. If we don’t get it some one else will—and they are good payers.”
Due did not reply.
“In a year or two from now, I’m thinking, you’ll have your own horses and won’t need to go scraping other people’s daily bread together,” she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, “Won’t you go right away and take the bucket? Then it’s done. And I must have some small firewood cut before you go to bed.”