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Tales from the Fjeld

good all his days, and sing and dance, and never do one stroke of work.

When his mother heard that, she too thought it would be a very fine thing; and so she fitted out the lad as well as she could, that he might look tidy when he got to Mother Roundabout's house; and so he set off on his way.

Now when he got out of doors the sun shone warm and bright; but it had rained the night before, so that the ways were soft and miry, and all the bog-holes stood full of water. The lad took a short cut to Mother Roundabout's, and he sang and jumped, as was ever his wont; but just as he sprang and leapt he got to a bog-hole, and over it lay a little bridge, and from the bridge he had to make a spring across a hole on to a tuft of grass, that he might not dirty his shoes. But plump, it went all at once, and just as he put his foot on the tuft it gave way under him, and there was no stopping till he found himself in a nasty deep, dark hole. At first he could see nothing, but when he had been there a while he had a glimpse of a rat, which came wiggle-waggle up to him with a bunch of keys at the tip of her tail.

"What! you here, my boy?" said the rat. "Thank you kindly for coming to me. I have waited long for you. You come, of course, to woo me, and you are eager at it, I can very well see; but you must have patience yet awhile, for I shall have a great dower, and I am not ready for my wedding just yet, but I'll do my best that it shall be as soon as ever I can."

When she had said that, she brought out ever so many egg-shells, with all sorts of bits and scraps, such