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I could hardly have been over twelve or thirteen
when Rag Hall challenged my resentment. My methods in dealing with
it had at least the merit of directness, if they added nothing to
the sum of human knowledge or happiness. I had received a "mark,"
which was a coin like our silver quarter, on Christmas Eve, and I
hied myself to Rag Hall at once to divide it with the poorest family
there, on the express condition that they should tidy up things,
especially those children, and generally change their way of living.
The man took the money--I have a vague recollection of seeing a
stunned look on his face--and, I believe, brought it back to our
house to see if it was all right, thereby giving me great offence.
But he did the best for himself that way, for so Rag Hall came under
the notice of my mother too. And there really was some whitewashing
done, and the children were cleaned up for a season. So that the
eight skilling were, if not wisely, yet well invested, after all.
[Illustration: The Domkirke]
[Illustration: Within the Domkirke.]
No doubt Christmas had something to do with it.


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