He found everything as it should be, save that the door to the empty hay shed had been blown open by the wind.  He stepped inside for the key, locked the shed door and put the key into his coat pocket.  Then he went back to the house, removed his coat, and hung it before the fire.  Even now he did not retire, but began pacing the floor.  The storm without, with its biting wind and snow-blended rain, was terrible, and his old horse was standing in this storm without so much as a blanket to protect him!  He should at least have given his old friend a roof over his head, since he had come such a long distance.

At the inn across the way the boy heard an old wall clock strike eleven times.  Just then he was untying the animals to lead them to the shed in the farm yard opposite.  It took some time to rouse them and get them into line.  When all were ready, they marched in a long procession into the stingy farmer’s yard, with the boy as their guide.  While the boy had been assembling them, the farmer had gone the rounds of the farm yard and locked the hay shed, so that when the animals came along the door was closed.  The boy stood there dismayed.  He could not let the creatures stand out there!  He must go into the house and find the key.

“Keep them quiet out here while I go in and fetch the key!” he said to the old horse, and off he ran.

On the path right in front of the house he paused to think out how he should get inside.  As he stood there he noticed two little wanderers coming down the road, who stopped before the inn.

The boy saw at once that they were two little girls, and ran toward them.

“Come now, Britta Maja!” said one, “you mustn’t cry any more.  Now we are at the inn.  Here they will surely take us in.”

The girl had but just said this when the boy called to her: 

“No, you mustn’t try to get in there.  It is simply impossible.  But at the farm house opposite there are no guests.  Go there instead.”

The little girls heard the words distinctly, though they could not see the one who spoke to them.  They did not wonder much at that, however, for the night was as black as pitch.  The larger of the girls promptly answered: 

“We don’t care to enter that place, because those who live there are stingy and cruel.  It is their fault that we two must go out on the highways and beg.”

“That may be so,” said the boy, “but all the same you should go there.  You shall see that it will be well for you.”

“We can try, but it is doubtful that they will even let us enter,” observed the two little girls as they walked up to the house and knocked.

The master was standing by the fire thinking of the horse when he heard the knocking.  He stepped to the door to see what was up, thinking all the while that he would not let himself be tempted into admitting any wayfarer.  As he fumbled the lock, a gust of wind came along, wrenched the door from his hand and swung it open.  To close it, he had to step out on the porch, and, when he stepped back into the house, the two little girls were standing within.