But his father and mother were certainly not congratulating themselves upon anything of the sort; but, on the contrary, they were very much distressed.  They were poor farmers, and their place was not much bigger than a garden-plot.  When they first moved there, the place couldn’t feed more than one pig and a pair of chickens; but they were uncommonly industrious and capable folk—­and now they had both cows and geese.  Things had turned out very well for them; and they would have gone to church that beautiful morning—­satisfied and happy—­if they hadn’t had their son to think of.  Father complained that he was dull and lazy; he had not cared to learn anything at school, and he was such an all-round good-for-nothing, that he could barely be made to tend geese.  Mother did not deny that this was true; but she was most distressed because he was wild and bad; cruel to animals, and ill-willed toward human beings.  “May God soften his hard heart, and give him a better disposition!” said the mother, “or else he will be a misfortune, both to himself and to us.”

The boy stood for a long time and pondered whether he should read the service or not.  Finally, he came to the conclusion that, this time, it was best to be obedient.  He seated himself in the easy chair, and began to read.  But when he had been rattling away in an undertone for a little while, this mumbling seemed to have a soothing effect upon him—­and he began to nod.

It was the most beautiful weather outside!  It was only the twentieth of March; but the boy lived in West Vemminghoeg Township, down in Southern Skane, where the spring was already in full swing.  It was not as yet green, but it was fresh and budding.  There was water in all the trenches, and the colt’s-foot on the edge of the ditch was in bloom.  All the weeds that grew in among the stones were brown and shiny.  The beech-woods in the distance seemed to swell and grow thicker with every second.  The skies were high—­and a clear blue.  The cottage door stood ajar, and the lark’s trill could be heard in the room.  The hens and geese pattered about in the yard, and the cows, who felt the spring air away in their stalls, lowed their approval every now and then.

The boy read and nodded and fought against drowsiness.  “No!  I don’t want to fall asleep,” thought he, “for then I’ll not get through with this thing the whole forenoon.”

But—­somehow—­he fell asleep.

He did not know whether he had slept a short while, or a long while; but he was awakened by hearing a slight noise back of him.

On the window-sill, facing the boy, stood a small looking-glass; and almost the entire cottage could be seen in this.  As the boy raised his head, he happened to look in the glass; and then he saw that the cover to his mother’s chest had been opened.