He was better off than many another, was Lars; light of heart and empty of
head; and thereto unconscionably sound and strong. True, there would be no
more singing up at the house for him now or ever after, but he seemed to
have grown a trifle doubtful of his voice himself the last few years, and
contented himself now for the most part with the things he had sung--once
upon a time--at dances and gentlefolk's parties. No, Lars Falkenberg was
none so badly off. He'd his own little holding, with keep for two cows and
a pig; and a wife and children he had as well.
But what were Grindhusen and I to turn our hands to now? I could go off
wandering anywhere, but Grindhusen, good soul, was no wanderer. All he
could do was to stay on at one place and work till he was dismissed. And
when the stern decision came, he was so upset that he could not take it
easily, but felt he was being specially hardly used. Then after a while he
grew confident again, and full of a childlike trust--not in himself, but
in Fate, in Providence--sat down resignedly, and said: "Ay, well, 'twill
be all right, let's hope, with God's help.
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