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[Illustration: LISBETH LONGFROCK]
LISBETH LONGFROCK
TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN OF HANS AANRUD
BY
LAURA E. POULSSON
ILLUSTRATED BY
OTHAR HOLMBOE
GINN AND COMPANY
BOSTON . NEW YORK . CHICAGO . LONDON
ATLANTA . DALLAS . COLUMBUS . SAN FRANCISCO
COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY
LAURA E. POULSSON
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
The Athenaeum Press
GINN AND COMPANY . PROPRIETORS .
BOSTON . U.S.A.
PREFACE
Hans Aanrud's short stories are considered by his own countrymen as
belonging to the most original and artistically finished life pictures
that have been produced by the younger _literati_ of Norway. They
are generally concerned with peasant character, and present in true
balance the coarse and fine in peasant nature. The style of speech is
occasionally over-concrete for sophisticated ears, but it is not
unwholesome. Of weak or cloying sweetness--so abhorrent to Norwegian
taste--there is never a trace.
_Sidsel Sidsaerk_ was dedicated to the author's daughter on her eighth
birthday, and is doubtless largely reminiscent of Aanrud's own
childhood. If I have been able to give a rendering at all worthy of the
original, readers of _Lisbeth Longfrock_ will find that the whole story
breathes a spirit of unaffected poetry not inconsistent with the common
life which it depicts. This fine blending of the poetic and commonplace
is another characteristic of Aanrud's writings.
While translating the book I was living in the region where the scenes
of the story are laid, and had the benefit of local knowledge
concerning terms used, customs referred to, etc. No pains were spared
in verifying particulars, especially through elderly people on the
farms, who could best explain the old-fashioned terms and who had a
clear remembrance of obsolescent details of saeter life. For this
welcome help and for elucidations through other friends I wish here to
offer my hearty thanks.
Being desirous of having the conditions of Norwegian farm life made as
clear as possible to young English and American readers, I felt that
several illustrations were necessary and that it would be well for
these to be the work of a Norwegian. To understand how the sun can be
already high in the heavens when it rises, and how, when it sets, the
shadow of the western mountain can creep as quickly as it does from the
bottom of the valley up the opposite slope, one must have some
conception of the narrowness of Norwegian valleys, with steep mountain
ridges on either side. I felt also that readers would be interested in
pictures showing how the dooryard of a well-to-do Norwegian farm looks,
how the open fireplace of the roomy kitchen differs from our
fireplaces, how tall and slender a Norwegian stove is, built with
alternating spaces and heat boxes, several stories high, and how
Crookhorn and the billy goat appeared when about to begin their grand
tussle up at Hoel Saeter.
_Sidsel Sidsaerk_ has given much pleasure to old and young. I hope that
_Lisbeth Longfrock_ may have the same good fortune.
LAURA E. POULSSON
HOPKINTON, MASSACHUSETTS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. LISBETH LONGFROCK GOES TO HOEL FARM 1
II. LISBETH LONGFROCK AS SPINNING WOMAN 12
III. LEAVING PEEROUT CASTLE 22
IV. SPRING: LETTING THE ANIMALS OUT TO PASTURE 33
V. SUMMER: TAKING THE ANIMALS UP TO THE SAETER 52
VI. THE TAMING OF CROOKHORN 68
VII. HOME FROM THE SAETER 84
VIII. ON GLORY PEAK 98
IX. THE VISIT TO PEEROUT CASTLE 113
X. SUNDAY AT THE SAETER 129
XI. LISBETH APPOINTED HEAD MILKMAID 139
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
LISBETH LONGFROCK _Frontispiece_
PAGE
HOEL FARM 4
THE BIG KITCHEN AT HOEL FARM 12
LISBETH'S ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS 34
THE VALLEY AND THE FARMS 52
UP AT THE SAETER 68
LISBETH LONGFROCK
CHAPTER I
LISBETH LONGFROCK GOES TO HOEL FARM
Bearhunter, the big, shaggy old dog at Hoel Farm, sat on the stone step
in front of the house, looking soberly around the spacious dooryard.
It was a clear, cold winter's day toward the beginning of spring, and
the sun shone brightly over the glittering snow. In spite of the bright
sunshine, however, Bearhunter would have liked to be indoors much
better than out, if his sense of responsibility had permitted; for his
paws ached with the cold, and he had to keep holding them up one after
another from the stone slab to keep from getting the "claw ache."
Bearhunter did not wish to risk that, because "claw ache" is very
painful, as every northern dog knows.
But to leave his post as watchman was not to be thought of just now,
for the pigs and the goats were out to-day. At this moment they were
busy with their separate affairs and behaving very well,--the pigs over
on the sunny side of the dooryard scratching themselves against the
corner of the cow house, and the goats gnawing bark from the big heap
of pine branches that had been laid near the sheep barn for their
special use. They looked as if they thought of nothing but their
scratching and gnawing; but Bearhunter knew well, from previous
experience, that no sooner would he go into the house than both pigs
and goats would come rushing over to the doorway and do all the
mischief they could. That big goat, Crookhorn,--the new one who had
come to the farm last autumn and whom Bearhunter had not yet brought
under discipline,--had already strayed in a roundabout way to the very
corner of the farmhouse, and was looking at Bearhunter in a
self-important manner, as if she did not fear him in the least. She was
really an intolerable creature, that goat Crookhorn! But just let her
dare--!
Bearhunter felt that he must sit on the cold doorstep for some time
longer, at any rate. He glanced up the road occasionally as if to see
whether any one was coming, so that the pigs and goats might not think
they had the whole of his attention.
He had just turned his head leisurely toward the narrow road that came
down crosswise over the slope from the Upper Farms, when--what in the
world was that!
Something _was_ coming,--a funny little roly-poly something. What a
pity, thought Bearhunter, that his sight was growing so poor! At any
rate, he had better give the people in the house warning.
So he gave several deep, echoing barks. The goats sprang together in a
clump and raised their ears; the pigs stopped in the very midst of
their scratching to listen. That Bearhunter was held in great respect
could easily be seen.
He still remained sitting on the doorstep, staring up the road. Never
in his life had he seen such a thing as that now approaching. Perhaps,
after all, it was nothing worth giving warning about. He would take a
turn up the road and look at it a little nearer. So, arching his bushy
tail into a handsome curve and putting on his most good-humored
expression, he sauntered off.
Yes, it must be a human being, although you would not think so. It
began to look very much like "Katrine the Finn," as they called her,
who came to the farm every winter; but it could not be Katrine--it was
altogether too little. It wore a long, wide skirt, and from under the
skirt protruded the tips of two big shoes covered with gray woolen
stocking feet from which the legs had been cut off. Above the skirt
there was a round bundle of clothes with a knitted shawl tied around
it, and from this protruded two stumps with red mittens on. Perched on
the top of all was a smaller shape, muffled up in a smaller knitted
shawl,--that, of course, must be the head. Carried at the back was a
huge bundle tied up in a dark cloth, and in front hung a pretty wooden
pail, painted red.
Really, Bearhunter had to stand still and gaze. The strange figure, in
the meantime, had become aware of him, and it also came to a
standstill, as if in a dilemma. At that, Bearhunter walked over to the
farther side of the road and took his station there, trying to look
indifferent, for he did not wish to cause any fright. The strange
figure then made its way carefully forward again, drawing gradually
closer and closer to its own side of the road. As it came nearer to
Bearhunter the figure turned itself around by degrees, until, when
directly opposite to him, it walked along quite sidewise.
Then it was that Bearhunter got a peep through a little opening in the
upper shawl; and there he saw the tip of a tiny, turned-up red nose,
then a red mouth that was drawn down a little at the corners as if
ready for crying, and then a pair of big blue eyes that were fastened
upon him with a look of terror.
[Illustration: HOEL FARM]
Pooh! it was nothing, after all, but a little girl, well bundled up
against the cold. Bearhunter did not know her--but wait a bit! he
thought he had seen that pail before. At any rate it would be absurd to
try to frighten this queer little creature.
His tail began to wag involuntarily as he walked across the road to
take a sniff at the pail.
The little girl did not understand his action at once. Stepping back in
alarm, she caught her heels in her long frock and down she tumbled by
the side of the road. Bearhunter darted off instantly; but after
running a short distance toward the house he stopped and looked at her
again, making his eyes as gentle as he could and wagging his tail
energetically. With Bearhunter that wagging of the tail meant hearty,
good-natured laughter.
Then the little girl understood. She got up, smiled, and jogged slowly
after him. Bearhunter trotted leisurely ahead, looking back at her from
time to time. He knew now that she had an errand at Hoel Farm, and that
he was therefore in duty bound to help her.
Thus it was that Lisbeth Longfrock of Peerout Castle made her entrance
into Hoel Farm.
* * * * *
Peerout Castle was perched high above the Upper Farms, on a crag that
jutted out from a barren ridge just under a mountain peak called "The
Big Hammer." The real name of the little farm was New Ridge,[1] and
"Peerout Castle" was only a nickname given to it by a joker because
there was so fine an outlook from it and because it bore no resemblance
whatever to a castle. The royal lands belonging to this castle
consisted of a little plot of cultivated soil, a bit of meadow land
here and there, and some heather patches where tiny blueberry bushes
and small mountain-cranberry plants grew luxuriantly. The castle's
outbuildings were a shabby cow house and a pigsty. The cow house was
built against the steep hillside, with three walls of loosely built
stone, and its two stalls were dug half their length into the hill. The
tiny pigsty was built in the same fashion.
[1] It is customary in Norway for each farm, however small, to
have a name.
As for the castle itself, that was a very, very small, turf-roofed
cabin lying out on the jutting crag in the middle of the rocky ridge.
It had only one small window, with tiny panes of glass, that looked out
over the valley. And yet, in whatever part of the surrounding country
one might be, by looking in that direction--and looking high
enough--one could always see that little castle, with its single window
peering out like a watchful eye over the landscape.
Since the castle from which Lisbeth Longfrock came was no more
magnificent than this, it may easily be understood that she was no
disguised princess, but only a poor little girl. Coming to Hoel Farm
for the first time was for her like visiting an estate that was, in
very truth, royal; and besides, she had come on an important "grown-up"
errand. She was taking her mother's place and visiting Hoel as a
spinning woman.
Lisbeth's mother, whose name was Randi,[2] had worked hard for the last
four years to get food for herself and her children up at Peerout
Castle. Before that the family had been in very comfortable
circumstances; but the father had died, leaving the mother with the
castle, one cow, and the care of the two children. The children were
Jacob, at that time about six years old, and Lisbeth, a couple of years
younger. Life was often a hard struggle for the mother; but they had,
at any rate, a house over their heads, and they could get wood without
having to go very far for it, since the forest lay almost within a
stone's throw.
[2] (In the original, Roennaug.) This was the mother's first
name. Her full name would be Randi Newridge, or Randi Peerout.
In the summer Randi managed to dig up her tiny plots of ground after a
fashion, so that she could harvest a few potatoes and a little grain.
By cutting grass and stripping off birch leaves she had thus far
managed each year to give Bliros, their cow, enough to eat. And where
there is a cow there is always food.
In the winter she spun linen and wool for the women on the farms far
and near, but as she had lived at Hoel Farm as a servant before she was
married, it was natural that most of her spinning should be for
Kjersti[3] Hoel.
[3] Kyare'-stee.
In such ways had Randi been able to care for her family. Meanwhile
Jacob, now ten years old, had grown big enough to earn his own living.
In the spring before the last a message had come from Nordrum Farm that
a boy was needed to look after the flocks, and Jacob had at once
applied and been accepted. He and Lisbeth had often knelt on the long
wooden bench under the little window at Peerout Castle, and gazed upon
the different farms, choosing which they would work on when they were
big enough. Jacob had always chosen Nordrum Farm,--probably because he
had heard Farmer Nordrum spoken of as the big man of the community;
while Lisbeth had always thought that it would be pleasanter at Hoel
Farm because it was owned by a woman.
When autumn came Farmer Nordrum had concluded that he would have use
for such a boy as Jacob during the winter also, and so Jacob had stayed
on. This last Christmas, however, he had gone home for the whole day
and had taken with him a Christmas present for his sister from a little
girl at Nordrum. The present was a gray woolen frock,--a very nice one.
Jacob had grown extremely pleasant and full of fun while at Nordrum,
Lisbeth thought. When she tried the frock on and it reached way down to
the ground before and behind, he called her "Lisbeth Longfrock" and
Lisbeth Longfrock she had remained from that day.
After Christmas, times had been somewhat harder at Peerout Castle.
Bliros, who generally gave milk the whole year round, had become dry,
and would not give milk for several months. She was to have a calf in
the early summer. During the last few weeks there had not been milk
enough even for Randi's and Lisbeth's coffee.
To go to Svehaugen,[4] the nearest farm, for milk was no short trip;
and milk was scarce there too, as Randi well knew. Besides, she could
not spare the time to go. She had to finish spinning Kjersti Hoel's
wool. When she once got that off her hands, they could have plenty of
milk for their coffee, and other good things besides. What a relief it
would be when that time came!
[4] Sva-howg-en.
So Randi worked steadily at her spinning, Lisbeth being now big enough
to help in carding the wool. For a week she spun almost without
ceasing, scarcely taking time for meals, but drinking a good deal of
strong black coffee. Not until very late one evening was Kjersti Hoel's
wool all spun and ready. By that time Randi was far from well. Whether
or not her illness was caused, as she thought, by drinking so much
black coffee, certain it is that when Kjersti Hoel's wool was all spun
Randi felt a tightness in her chest, and when she got up the next
morning and tried to get ready to go to Hoel with the spinning, she was
seized with such a sudden dizziness that she had to go back to bed
again. She was too weak for anything else.
Now it was the custom in Norway for the spinning woman to take back to
the different farms the wool she had spun, and for the farmers' wives
to praise her work, treat her to something good to eat and drink, pay
her, and then give her directions about the way the next spinning was
to be done. All this Randi would have to give up for the present--there
was no help for it; but she wondered how it would do to send Lisbeth to
Hoel Farm in her stead. The little girl would find her way safely,
Randi was sure, although Randi had never as yet taken her to that farm
because it was so far off. The payment for the spinning was to be in
eatables as well as money, and Lisbeth could bring home part of what
was due. Then, though they still might lack many things, their drop of
coffee could have cream in it, as coffee ought to have. The remainder
of the payment and the directions for the next spinning Randi herself
could get when she was better.
If she could only be sure that Lisbeth would behave properly and not
act like a changeling, a troll child!
Lisbeth eagerly promised that if her mother would allow her to go she
would behave exactly as a spinning woman should,--she would, really!
And she remembered perfectly well just how everything was done that
time she had gone with her mother to one of the nearer farms.
So Lisbeth put on her long frock, which was used only for very best,
and her mother wrapped her up snugly in the two shawls. Then the bundle
of yarn was slung over her back, the pail was hung in front, many
directions were given to her about the road, and off she started.
And that is the way Lisbeth Longfrock happened to come toddling after
Bearhunter to Hoel Farm on that clear, cold winter's day toward the
beginning of spring.