“Oh, yes, at night!”
Pelle frowned. “You must be very heartless, when you can leave your old grandmother and not even like others to help her. I’m certain she’s in want somewhere or other.”
Johanna looked at him angrily. “I whipped her too,” she exclaimed malignantly, and then burst into a laugh at Pelle’s expression. “No, I didn’t really,” she said reassuringly. “I only took away her stick and hid her spectacles so that she couldn’t go out and fetch the cream. So she was obliged to send me, and I drank up all the cream and put water in the can. She couldn’t see it, so she scolded the milk people because they cheated.”
“You’re making all this up, I think,” said Pelle uncertainly.
“I picked the crumb out of the loaf too, and let her eat the crust,” Johanna continued with a nod.
“Now stop that,” said Pelle, stroking her damp forehead. “I know quite well that I’ve offended you.”
She pushed away his hand angrily. “Do you know what I wish?” she said suddenly. “I wish you were my father.”
“Would you like me to be?”
“Yes, for when you became quite poor and ill, I’d treat you just as well as I’ve treated grandmother.” She laughed a harsh laugh.
“I’m certain you’ve only been kind to grandmother,” said Pelle gravely.