When Kjersti had shown Lisbeth the sheep and the goats, she declared that she should certainly need a little girl to look after her flocks when spring came; and then Lisbeth, before she knew what she was saying, told Kjersti how she and Jacob used to look at the farms from the window at home, and how she had always chosen Hoel as the place where she should like to work when she was big enough.

"Should you really like to go out to work?" Kjersti inquired.

"Yes, indeed," Lisbeth said, "if it were not for leaving mother."

"Well, we will not think about that any more at present," said Kjersti, "but I will go up and talk with your mother about it some time in the spring. We certainly ought to go into the house now, so that you can have time to take a little food before leaving. It is drawing toward evening and you will have to start for home soon."

So they went into the house again, and Lisbeth had another feast of good things. While she was eating she noticed that Kjersti brought from the cellar some b.u.t.ter and cheese and other things and packed them in the dark cloth in which the wool had been tied. The milk pail she did not touch at all; but Lisbeth saw that she said something about it softly to the servant maid, after which the maid left the room.

When Lisbeth had eaten and had said "Thanks and praise for both food and drink," Kjersti remarked: "Now you must lift the bundle over there and see if you can carry it."

The bundle _was_ rather heavy. Still, Lisbeth thought she could manage it. But the pail! Not a word did Kjersti say, even now, about the pail!

She only added, kindly, "Come, and I will help you put on your things."

She drew on Lisbeth's mittens, wrapped her up snugly in the two little shawls, and, in a trice, there stood Lisbeth Longfrock looking exactly as she did when she had come to Hoel that morning.

Slowly and reluctantly Lisbeth went toward the door, where the pail still stood. How strange that Kjersti had not even yet said a single word about it! Lisbeth stood for a moment in doubt. After receiving so much, it would never do to remind Kjersti about the pail; but she would much rather have gone without the good things she herself had been treated to than to go home without any milk for her mother's coffee.

She took up the bundle, drew her face with its turned-up nose tip back into its little shawl as far as she could so that Kjersti should not see the tears in her eyes, and then bent down and lifted the pail.

At that Kjersti said: "Oh, yes! the pail! I quite forgot it. Are you willing to exchange pails with me if I give you one that will never get empty?"

Lisbeth dropped her pail plump on the floor. She had seen and heard many curious things on this eventful day,--things she had never seen or thought of before; but that Kjersti, besides everything else, had a pail that would never get empty! She stood and stared, open-mouthed.

"Yes, you must come and see it," said Kjersti. "It stands just outside the door."

Lisbeth was not slow in making her way out. Kjersti followed her. There stood the servant maid, holding the big goat, Crookhorn, by a rope.

"The goat is used to being led," said Kjersti, "so you will have no trouble in taking it home. Give my greetings to your mother, and ask her if she is satisfied with the exchange of pails."

Kjersti was not a bit displeased because Lisbeth Longfrock forgot to express her thanks as she started off with Crookhorn. Bearhunter followed the little girl and the goat a long distance up the road. He did not understand matters at all!

It is not to be wondered at that Randi, too, was greatly surprised when she saw Crookhorn following after Lisbeth as the little girl approached the castle.

There was not time for Lisbeth to tell about everything at the very first, for her mother and she had to clear up the stall next to the one Bliros occupied, and put Crookhorn into it. When this was done they felt exactly as if they had two cows. The goat took her place in the stall with a self-important, superior air, quite as if she were a real cow and had never done anything else but stand in a cow stall. Bliros became offended at this remarkable newcomer, who was putting on such airs in the cow house that had always belonged to herself alone, and so she made a lunge with her head and tried to hook the goat with her horns; but Crookhorn merely turned her own horns against those of Bliros in the most indifferent manner, as if quite accustomed to being hooked by cows.

Bliros gazed at her in astonishment. Such a silly goat! She had never seen such a silly goat. And with that she turned her head to the wall again and did not give Crookhorn another look.

That evening Lisbeth Longfrock had so many things to tell her mother that she talked herself fast asleep!

CHAPTER III

LEAVING PEEROUT CASTLE

The next time Lisbeth Longfrock came to Hoel Farm, she did not come alone; and she came--to stay!

All that had happened between that first visit and her second coming had been far, far different from anything Lisbeth had ever imagined. It seemed as if there had been no time for her to think about the strange events while they were taking place. She did not realize what their result would be until after she had lived through them and gone out of the gate of Peerout Castle when everything was over. So much had been going on in those last sad, solemn days,--so much that was new to see and to hear,--that although she had felt a lump in her throat the whole time, she had not had a real cry until at the very end. But when she had pa.s.sed through the gate that last day, and had stopped and looked back, the picture that she then saw had brought the whole clearly before her, with all its sorrow. Something was gone that would never come again. She would never again go to Peerout Castle except as a stranger. She had no home--no home anywhere. And at that she had begun to weep so bitterly that those who had been thinking how wisely and quietly she was taking her trouble could but stand and look at her in wonder.

The last two months of the winter had pa.s.sed so quickly up at Peerout Castle that Lisbeth really could not tell what had become of them; and this was owing not a little to the fact that, besides all her other work, she had so much to do in the cow house.

Crookhorn had become, as it were, Lisbeth's cow, and consequently had to be taken care of by her. Bliros showed very plainly that she would not like at all to have Randi's attentions bestowed upon a rascally goat. That would make it seem as if the goat were fully as important a person in the cow house as Bliros herself; whereas the whole cow house, in reality, belonged to her, and that other creature was only allowed there as a favor.

So Lisbeth took care of Crookhorn exactly as she saw her mother take care of Bliros. In fact, before long she had more to do in the cow house than her mother had; for she soon learned to milk Crookhorn, while Bliros, her mother's cow, could not then be milked.

And Crookhorn gave so much milk! Three times a day Lisbeth had to milk her. There was no longer any scarcity of cream for coffee or milk for porridge. Indeed, there was even cream enough to make waffles with now and then.

Springtime came. It always came early up at Peerout Castle. The slopes of heather, directly facing the sun, were the first in the whole valley to peep up out of the snow. As soon as the heathery spots began to show themselves, Lisbeth was out on them, stepping here and there with a cautious foot. It seemed so wonderful to step on bare earth again instead of snow! Day by day she kept track of the different green patches, watching them grow larger and larger, and seeing how the snow glided slowly farther and farther downward,--exactly as her own frock did when she loosened the band and let it slip down and lie in a ring around her feet. When the snow had slipped as far down as the big stone where she and Jacob used to have their cow house (using pine cones for cows and sheep), the outermost buds on the trees would swell and be ready to burst,--she knew that from the year before; and when the buds had really opened (she kept close watch of them every day now), then, _then_ would come the great day when Crookhorn could be let out.

Lisbeth's mother had said so.

That great day was what she was waiting for, not only because it would be so pleasant for Crookhorn to be out, but because no food was equal to the first buds of spring for making goats yield rich milk.

Lisbeth's mother had been far from well ever since the day that Lisbeth went over to Hoel Farm for the first time. But Lisbeth thought that as soon as Crookhorn had fresh buds to eat and gave richer milk, her mother would of course get entirely well.

It is very possible that a little streak of snow was still lying by the upper side of the big stone (in spite of Lisbeth's having scattered sand there to make the snow melt faster) on the bright spring day when Lisbeth went into the cow house, unfastened Crookhorn, and led her out of the stall.

As for Crookhorn, she followed her little mistress very sedately until they reached the cow-house door. There she stopped short, looking around and blinking at the sun. Lisbeth pulled at the rope, trying to drag her over to the part of the ridge where the birch tree with the fullest leaf buds stood. But Crookhorn would not budge. She merely stood stock-still as if nothing were being done to her; for she was so strong that, however hard Lisbeth pulled, it did not even make her stretch her neck. Lisbeth then went nearer, thinking that she could pull better without such a length of rope between her and the goat; but at that, quick as a wink, Crookhorn lowered her head and b.u.t.ted Lisbeth, causing the little girl to fall back against the hillside with a whack. Upon which, Crookhorn stalked in an indifferent manner across the road.

Lisbeth picked herself up and started to go after her charge; but, if you please, as soon as she came near enough and tried to seize Crookhorn, away would that naughty goat dart, not galloping as a goat usually does, but trotting like a cow or an elk. She trotted by the house and turned off on the road leading to Svehaugen Farm. Lisbeth pursued swiftly; but, run as she might, she could not gain upon Crookhorn. At last, stumbling over a stone, the little girl fell at full length, having barely time, while falling, to look up and catch a glimpse of Crookhorn's back as the goat, trotting swiftly, disappeared over the brow of a hill.

There was no other way out of it,--Lisbeth would have to run home and get her mother to help her. This she did, and they both set out in full chase. It was a long run, for they did not overtake Crookhorn until they had reached the Svehaugen gate. There stood the goat gazing unconcernedly through the palings. She evidently felt herself superior to jumping over fences,--she who imagined herself to be a cow!

Randi had become much overheated from running, and at night, when she went to bed, she said she felt cold and shivery. That seemed very strange indeed to Lisbeth, for when she laid her face against her mother's neck, it was as hot as a burning coal.

In the morning Lisbeth's mother woke her and told her to get up and go over to Kari Svehaugen's and ask Kari to come to Peerout Castle. Randi felt so poorly that there was no use in her even trying to get up. She was not able.

Not able to get up! That also seemed very strange to Lisbeth, for never before had she seen her mother with cheeks so red and eyes so shining.

The child did not say anything, however, but got up, dressed herself quickly and quietly, and ran off to Svehaugen.

After that there came several wonderful days at Peerout Castle. When Lisbeth Longfrock thought about them afterward, they seemed like a single long day in which a great many things had happened that she could not separate from one another and set in order. In her remembrance it was as if shadows had glided to and fro in an ugly yellow light, while the sound of a heavy, painful breathing was constantly heard, penetrating all other sounds.

She seemed dimly to see Kari Svehaugen gliding about and taking care of things in the home and out in the cow house. She herself had climbed a birch tree several times and picked leaf buds for the animals to eat.

One day Lars Svehaugen had flitted along the road in front of the house, swiftly, as if he had not a moment to spare. Soon after this, some one dressed in furs and with big boots on came driving to the house, and all the neighbors flocked around him, listening to what he said. And he brought such a curious smell with him! It filled the whole house, so that, even after he had gone away, he seemed to be still there.

She thought, too, that once she had seen Kjersti Hoel sitting on a chair, taking many good things out of a big basket, and Jacob standing by Kjersti's side with a great slice of raisin cake in his hand. And Jacob had kept chewing and chewing on his raisin cake, as if it was hard work to get it down. What she remembered chiefly, though, was Jacob's eyes,--they looked so big and strange.

Then one morning she had awakened in a clear gray light, and from that time she remembered everything very distinctly. She was lying in the little trundle-bed that Jacob had slept in when he lived at home,--she must, of course, have slept in it all these nights,--and Kari Svehaugen was standing beside it, looking down upon her. The house was oh! so still,--she did not hear the heavy, painful breathing any longer. The only sound was a slight crackling in the fireplace, out of which a stream of warmth issued.

Kari said very quietly: "Your mother is comfortable and happy now, little Lisbeth; better off than she has ever been before. So you must not cry."

And Lisbeth did not cry. She merely got up and went about the house very, very quietly all that first day. Afterwards there were so many preparations being made for some solemn festival that she did not seem to get time to think about the great change that had taken place.