Pelle quickly swallowed his herring and porridge, and set off again to run to meet his father; he was longing immensely to see him. Out at the pump the girls were busy scouring the milkpails and kitchen pans; and Gustav was standing in the lower yard with his arms on the fence, talking to them. He was really watching Bodil, whose eyes were always following the new pupil, who was strutting up and down and showing off his long boots with patent-leather tops.
Pelle was stopped as he ran past, and set to pump water. The men now came up and went across to the barn, perhaps to try their strength. Since Erik had come, they always tried their strength in their free time. There was nothing Pelle found so exciting as trials of strength, and he worked hard so as to get done and go over there.
Gustav, who was generally the most eager, continued to stand and vent his ill-nature upon the pupil.
“There must be money there!” said Bodil, thoughtfully.
“Yes, you should try him; perhaps you might become a farmer’s wife. The bailiff won’t anyhow; and the farmer—well, you saw the Sow the other day; it must be nice to have that in prospect.”
“Who told you that the bailiff won’t?” answered Bodil sharply. “Don’t imagine that we need you to hold the candle for us! Little children aren’t allowed to see everything.”
Gustav turned red. “Oh, hold your jaw, you hussy!” he muttered, and sauntered down to the barn.
“Oh, goodness gracious, my poor old mother,
Who’s up on deck and can’t stand!”
sang Mons over at the stable door, where he was standing hammering at a cracked wooden shoe. Pelle and the girls were quarreling, and up in the attic the bailiff could be heard going about; he was busy putting pipes in order. Now and then a long-drawn sound came from the high house, like the distant howling of some animal, making the people shudder with dreariness.
A man dressed in his best clothes, and with a bundle under his arm, slipped out of the door from the men’s rooms, and crept along by the building in the lower yard. It was Erik.