“Have you seen him again?” asked Pelle.
Hanne laughingly shook her head. “No; but I believe something will happen—something splendid. Out there lies a great ship—I can see it from the window. It’s full of wonderful things, Pelle.”
“You are crazy!” said Pelle scornfully. “That’s a bark—bound for the coal quay. She comes from England with coals.”
“That may well be,” replied Hanne indifferently. “I don’t mind that. There’s something in me singing, ‘There lies the ship, and it has brought something for me from foreign parts.’ And you needn’t grudge me my happiness.”
But now her mother came in, and began to mimic her.
“Yes, out there lies the ship that has brought me something—out there lies the ship that has brought me something! Good God! Haven’t you had enough of listening to your own crazy nonsense? All through your childhood you’ve sat there and made up stories and looked out for the ship! We shall soon have had enough of it! And you let Pelle sit there and watch you uncovering your youth—aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Pelle’s so good, mother—and he’s my brother, too. He thinks nothing of it.”
“Thinks nothing of it? Yes, he does; he thinks how soft and white your bosom is! And he’s fit to cry inside of him because he mustn’t lay his head there. I, too, have known what it is to give joy, in my young days.”
Hanne blushed from her bosom upward. She threw a kerchief over her bosom and ran into the kitchen.
The mother looked after her.