"How are you going to let her grow up then?" he asked.
"I am going to let her grow up and be happy among the goats and
birds; with them she is safe, and will learn nothing evil."
"But the child is not a goat or a bird, she is a human being. If
she learns no evil from these comrades of hers, she will at the
same time learn nothing; but she ought not to grow up in
ignorance, and it is time she began her lessons. I have come now
that you may have leisure to think over it, and to arrange about
it during the summer. This is the last winter that she must be
allowed to run wild; next winter she must come regularly to
school every day."
"She will do no such thing," said the old man with calm
determination.
"Do you mean that by no persuasion can you be brought to see
reason, and that you intend to stick obstinately to your
decision?" said the pastor, growing somewhat angry. "You have
been about the world, and must have seen and learnt much, and I
should have given you credit for more sense, neighbor."
"Indeed," replied the old man, and there was a tone in his voice
that betrayed a growing irritation on his part too, "and does
the worthy pastor really mean that he would wish me next winter
to send a young child like that some miles down the mountain on
ice-cold mornings through storm and snow, and let her return at
night when the wind is raging, when even one like ourselves
would run a risk of being blown down by it and buried in the
snow? And perhaps he may not have forgotten the child's mother,
Adelaide? She was a sleep-walker, and had fits. Might not the
child be attacked in the same way if obliged to over-exert
herself? And some one thinks they can come and force me to send
her? I will go before all the courts of justice in the country,
and then we shall see who will force me to do it!"
"You are quite right, neighbor," said the pastor in a friendly
tone of voice. "I see it would have been impossible to send the
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