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At length they reached the house where the candle was shining, not without many alarms, for often they lost sight of it altogether, and always when they went down into the hollows. They knocked loudly at the door, and a good woman came to open it. She asked them what they wanted. Little Thumbling told her they were poor children who had lost their way in the forest, and who begged a night's lodgings for charity's sake. The woman, seeing they were all so pretty, began to weep, and said to them, "Alas! my poor children, to what a place have you come! Know you not that this is the house of an ogre who eats little children?" "Alas!" replied Little Thumbling, who trembled from head to foot, as indeed did all his brothers, "what shall we do? We shall certainly be all eaten up by the wolves to-night, if you do not give us shelter, and, in that case, we would rather be eaten by the ogre; perhaps he may have pity upon us, if you are kind enough to ask him." The ogre's wife, who thought that she might be able to hide them from her husband till the next morning, let the children come in, and led them where they could warm themselves by a good fire, for there was a whole sheep on the spit, roasting for the ogre's supper.,

From sire to son descended,,

Aunt Grenertsen was difficult to talk with—so contrary, somehow, even if not really cross, that it was very tiresome. She wasn’t the least bit like Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe, who was always kind and gentle, always pleasant. Oh, dear, no! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t like Uncle Isaac; far, far from it!,

The clear notes of a bugle rang forth in the thrilling signal to charge!

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“Yes, far out against the sky.”,

“’Gainst rules, son,” was the man’s answer, pulling a lever which made a great bucket shoot up from the depths.,

Therefore, when he saw in the distance a figure seated on a rock fishing, it came as a great surprise. He pointed the canoe’s nose toward the fisherman. When he got close he saw that it was a boy of perhaps his own age.,

Gracious! how that boy had yelled! Well, a good pommeling was just what he deserved. It was rather a pity, though, that there had come a great split in his jacket and that his fishpole had got broken to bits in the fight. Even if it hadn’t ever been a good pole, it was wonderful how much he caught with it. He had to catch fish for his mother every single day. People said that at Tellef’s house they ate fish for breakfast, dinner, and supper, and that they had scarcely anything else to eat. Ugh! That must be tiresome! There was nothing so horrid when one came home from school very hungry, and shouted at the kitchen door “What are we going to have for dinner?” as to have Olea the cook say “Codfish.” And think! That was about all they had to eat down in Tellef’s shanty.