"They are only the sort o' things they carry about to sell," explained Marit. "I thought it would be amusing like to have her. She was not born to it, nor, for the matter of that, was he." Tomasine was now opposite the open door. "Good gracious!" she exclaimed, "what child can that be who is always screaming?" Marit laughed. "Oh! that's Lars Tobiassen's boy, that is." "He never does anything else but scream," was suddenly heard from the little girl behind her grandmother's gown. She came forward in her excitement. Then, frightened at the sound of her own voice, she hid her head again. "Perhaps the lady knows Lars Tobiassen?" inquired Marit. Tomasine noticed something in her voice. "No, what is he?" "It is rather a difficult job to say, that," answered Marit. "He's such a lot of things. He's a hard drinker, he is. He's turned butcher lately, for they say as drinking won't do no harm in that business. Have you never seen him?" "No, why do you ask me?" "Ah, I don't hardly like to say anything about it," and she laughed rather slyly. "But why not?" "Well, I only says what others says to me. It was not as found it out," and she laughed again. "What is said, then?" "Well, folk do say that he's a Kurt too. Not any of them last ones, but a bit further back." She saw this made some impression on Tomasine, and hastily added, "Like enough, it's nought but talk. He's like no Kurt that ever I saw. He's a rare fighter, he is." "Some of the Kurts have been that too," answered Tomasine, by way of saying something; and she turned to the window and looked out. "Yes, I've heard that," answered Marit; "there are two sorts of 'em. Some fat and dark, and others just as thin; but they have always been good-natured, the most of 'em. Folk can say what they will, but to the poor people...." Her hand sought the child. Tomasine turned at the moment and beckoned to Marit. Through the window they could see a number of people beyond the garden-fence. Andreas Berg was there as well, talking to some of them, perhaps to keep them there, and prevent them from coming to the door. They were mostly young. Now she saw that they were the same whom she had passed down below, sitting round the flat stone; a few others might perhaps have joined them. They all stood staring up at the window. "My, what a lot there are!" cried Marit. "Do you see that ragged boy, with the fair curly hair?" asked Tomasine.