“I have left all my money to you and Morten. As yet there is no institution that I could give it to, so you must administer it in the name of cooperation. You two are the best guardians of the poor, and I know you will employ it in the best manner. I place it with confidence in your hands. The will is at my lawyer’s; I arranged it all before I left home.
“My greetings to all at ‘Daybreak’—Ellen, the children, and Morten. If the baby is christened before I get home, remember that he is to be called after me. But I am hoping that you will come.”
Ellen drew a deep breath when Pelle had finished the letter. “I only hope he’s not worse than he makes out,” she said. “I suppose you’ll go?”
“Yes, I’ll arrange what’s necessary at the works to-morrow early, and take the morning express.”
“Then I must see to your things,” exclaimed Ellen, and went in.
Pelle and Morten went for a stroll along the edge of the hill, past the half-finished houses, whose red bricks shone in the sun.
“Everything seems to turn out well for you, Pelle,” said Morten suddenly.
“Yes,” said Pelle; “nothing has succeeded in injuring me, so I suppose what Father Lasse and the others said is right, that I was born with a caul. The ill-usage I suffered as a child taught me to be good to others, and in prison I gained liberty; what might have made me a criminal made a man of me instead. Nothing has succeeded in injuring me! So I suppose I may say that everything has turned out well.”
“Yes, you may, and now I’ve found a subject, Pelle! I’m not going to hunt about blindly in the dark; I’m going to write a great work now.”
“I congratulate you! What will it be about? Is it to be the work on the sun?”