She turned quickly to the crazy man, who was still working at the coffin-lid.
'Oh,' she said, 'will you let me creep into your pack?'
In a moment she stood by the great leather pack, which contained goods enough to fill a whole market-stall, and began to open it.
'You must come and help me.'
She did not ask in vain. When the Dalar man saw her touching his wares he came up at once.
'Are you touching my pack?' he asked threateningly.
Ingrid did not notice that he spoke angrily; she considered him to be her best friend all the time.
'Oh, dear good man,' she said, 'help me to hide, so that people will not see me. Put your wares somewhere or other, and let me creep into the pack, and carry me home. Oh, do do it! I live at the Parsonage, and it is only a little way from here. You know where it is.'
The man stood and looked at her with stupid eyes. She did not know whether he had understood a word of what she said. She repeated it, but he made no sign of obeying her. She began again to take the things out of the pack. Then he stamped on the ground and tore the pack from her.