The Blue-Haired Ogre 67

the snow, so eager that he could hardly wait
to say good-bye.

“T shall know how to take care of myself,
and will bring home something fine, you'll
see! Good-bye, all of you! Karl can stay
and make the soup,” he shouted gaily back,
and the mother dried her eyes and sighed—

“He was always the cleverest among you
all; not one can come up to him. Now,
Karl, can’t you stop the baby from scream-_
ing?” And that night, when the wind blew,
she lay weeping and thinking of Peter, and
sure that he was more dear to her than either
of the others.

Well, the days went by, and the pinching
frost held on, and the mother cut her own
duffle cloak into frocks for the girls, and
one morning a poor miserable little figure,
thin and haggard, crept into the hut, and
flung himself down with a gasp. The
mother sprang out of bed and gathered
him in her arms, and made the little girls
run here and run there to heap on wood, and
bring what food there was.