THE SPECTACLE MAN ALONE AGAIN
The children had stayed with the Spectacle Man two whole days. They
laughed at themselves when they told him how he had scared them at
first: he who was pure kindness and fun.
The storm had ceased. One saw men driving the snow-plough over the
highway. Pelle and Andy had been out to try to tramp a path that far.
The next morning the children were to leave, and they went to bed
early. When they had fallen asleep, which was as soon as they touched
the straw, Pelle went out. He limped down to the village. People who
saw him said, ‘Now Pelle is going to the inn again.’
But Ladd-Pelle did _not_ go to the inn.
He bought meal at the store with the finished shoes he had with him.
He bought sugar and a little pork, also small wheat buns, fourteen of
them. He was thinking of the children and that they should have two
each the next morning before they left.
When he came home, he sat down to sew with the haste of despair. It was
late at night before he went to bed.
But then there were three new pairs of shoes beside the straw bed on
the floor.
The little girls had been practically without shoes on their feet,
which looked like pieces of meat, red and swollen, when Andy had taken
off the rags in the evening. And Anna-Lisa had had such blisters on her
heels that they had bled and she had cried when she loosened the ragged
shoes from her feet.
Pelle had now done everything he could for them. But he thought it was
hard to have them leave the cottage. It seemed as though both warmth
and light would leave with the children.
If he could only keep the goat, that fine animal who milked so well! It
would be easier to give up brandy, thought Pelle, if he had sweet milk
to drink whenever he was thirsty, after the salt-herring breakfast and
dinner. Besides, the poor children couldn’t drag a goat with them the
whole way, he thought, so he asked them if they would give up the goat
and leave it with him. He’d get money to pay for it. But it was not
to be expected that they would let Golden Horn go. She who gave them
warmth, food, who was their good friend, and who was old and homelike
to have along.
Father mustn’t be angry. But they wouldn’t give up Golden Horn for much
money, not for any price.
‘So that’s the way of it, that you are good friends of hers too, and
can depend on her. Well, then, I’ll have to try to get along without
her,’ said Ladd-Pelle resignedly.
‘It’s been so nice here, and many thanks for all of us.’ Andy put out
his hand and looked up at Ladd-Pelle with such a pure and earnest look
that he thought he could never bear being without them.
‘Oh, please, don’t forget that the little cactus needs sunshine and
water every day. When we come back again, I’ll have another big
beautiful plant for you, father,’ said Maglena. She, too, took his hand
and thanked him.
Of course Anna-Lisa thanked him. She could not fully show or say how
absolutely delighted she was over the new shoes.
The little girls were lifted up. Martha-Greta stretched out her arms,
puckered out her mouth into a pout. ‘Tiss fa’r--oo div Ata-Eta p’itt
s’oes.’
‘She wants to kiss you, she says, because you gave her pretty shoes.’
‘So that’s the way of it! And I, poor soul, not worthy to come near
such a God’s angel----’
Ladd-Pelle turned abruptly away from the children and went alone into
the cottage, empty, but now so neat. He sat down by the fire and
sniffed as though all joy in life had left him.
The gray dog, who had been happy to see the unpleasant company leave
and had joyfully wagged his tail as a farewell out on the step, now
whined mournfully and sympathetically when he found his master in such
low spirits in the cottage.