“Oh, Niels!” said Hansa, “do you really think so?  Quick! help me, then, that I may not keep him waiting.”

Never was toilet more speedily made, and soon Hansa stepped shyly up to Haakon, saying gently, “I am ready, father.”

She was very pretty as she stood before him, so gayly dressed, and with a real May-day face, all smiles and tears—­tears for Niels, to whom for the first time she must say “good-bye,” smiles that perhaps might coax her father to love her.  But Haakon looked not at her, and only saying “Come, then,” walked quickly away.

“Good-bye, my Hansa,” said Niels, for the last time. “I love you.  Come back ready to tell me of all the beautiful things at the fair.”

Then he went into the tent, and Hansa ran on beside her father, who spoke not a word as they walked mile after mile till four were passed, and Lyngen, with its tall church spires, its long rows of houses, and many gayly decorated shops, was before them.  Hansa, to whom everything was new and wonderful, gazed curiously about her, and many a question trembled on her tongue but found no voice, as Haakon strode moodily on, till they reached the market-place, and there beside one of the many drinking-booths sat himself down, while Hansa stood timidly behind him.  Soon he called for a mug of finkel, and drank it greedily; then another and another followed, till Hansa grew frightened and said, “Oh, dear father, do not drink any more!”

Then Haakon beat her till she cried bitterly.

“Oh, cry on!” said the cruel father, who we must hope hardly knew what he was saying, “for never will I take you back to my tent and to Niels.  I brought you here to-day that some one else may have you.  You shall be my child no longer.  I will give you for a pipe, that I may smoke and drink my finkel in peace.  Who’ll buy?”

Just then, good Peder Olsen came by, and his kind heart ached for the little maid.

“See!” said he to the angry Lapp.  “Give me the child, and I will give you a pipe and these thirty marks as well.  They are my year’s earnings, but I give them gladly.”

“Strike hands!  She is yours!” said Haakon, who, without one look at his weeping child, turned away; while the wood cutter led Hansa, all trembling and frightened, toward his home.

At first, she longed to tell her kind protector of Niels, and beg him to take her back.  But she was a wise little maid, and curious withal.  So she said to herself:  “Who knows?  It may be a beautiful home, and the kind people may send me back for Niels.  I will go on now, for I have never been but one road in all my life, and surely I can find it again.”

So she walked quietly on beside father Peder, till at last his little cottage appeared in sight.

“This is your new home, dear child,” said he, and they stepped quickly up to the door, opened it softly, and entered the little room.

Grandmother Ingeborg was nodding in her big chair in the chimney corner, but the soft footsteps aroused her, and, looking up, she said: