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Now there tcas a scene! The same story
began again; they pulled and twisted my head,
Father gave directions, I cried and Olaug cried
and everybody talked at once.
“ No,” said Father at last, “ it can’t be done.
Hurry down to Carpenter Wenzel and ask him
to come and to bring his saw with him.”
“Uh, buh! He’ll saw my head off!” I
wailed.
But Mother patted nie on the back and
coni-forted nie, and all the others standing behind
kept saying it would be all right soon, while
I stood there like a mouse in a trap and cried
and cried.
But it was Sunday and the carpenter was
not at home.
“ Run af ter niv little kitchen saw then,” said
Mother. “ Bring the meat-axe, too,” called
Father.
Oh, how would they manage? It seemed to
nie my head would surely be sawed or chopped
to pieces.
Well, now began a sawing and hammering
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