“The doll, yes! That’s true! You’ll have to wait till tomorrow, Sister, because to-day’s Sunday.”
Anna had eaten her egg and turned the shell upside down in the egg-cup so that it looked like an egg that had not been touched. She pushed it slowly toward Brun.
“What’s the matter now?” he exclaimed, pushing his spectacles up onto his forehead. “You haven’t eaten your egg!”
“I can’t,” she said, hanging her head.
“Why, there must be something wrong with her!” said the old man, in amazement. “Such a big, fat egg too! Very well, then I must eat it.” And he began to crack the egg, Anna and Boy Comfort following his movements with dancing eyes and their hands over their mouths, until his spoon went through the shell and he sprang up to throw it at their heads, when their merriment burst forth. It was a joke that never suffered by repetition.
While breakfast was in progress, the farmer from the hill farm came in to tell them that they must be prepared to move out, as he meant to sell the house. He was one of those farmers of common-land, whom the city had thrown off their balance. He had lived up there and had seen one farm after another grow larger and make their owners into millionaires, and was always expecting that his turn would come. He neglected the land, and even the most abundant harvest was ridiculously small in comparison with his golden dreams; so the fields were allowed to lie and produce weeds.
Ellen was just as dismayed as Pelle at the thought of having to leave “Daybreak.” It was their home, their nest too; all their happiness and welfare were really connected with this spot.
“You can buy the house of course,” said the farmer. “I’ve had an offer of fifteen thousand (L850) for it, and I’ll let it go for that.”
After he had gone they sat and discussed the matter. “It’s very cheap,” said Brun. “In a year or two you’ll have the town spreading in this direction, and then it’ll be worth at least twice as much.”
“Yes, that may be,” said Pelle; “but you’ve both to get the amount and make it yield interest.”