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poor and sick went to Mother Goodfields, as all
the people in the neighborhood called her. She
was big and strong and earnest and helped
them all. She was a widow and had no
chil-dren, and it seemed to her so lonely on the big
farm that she took summer boarders.
On the fjord the little steamboat went up
one day and down the next, with foreigners
who sat stretching their legs out on the deck
and stared sleepily at the mountains.
I am not fond of mountains, to tell the
trutli. Ugh! when you stay among them it
seems so cramped and horrid. You feel just
like a little ant at last. No, give me the sea,
with its seaweed tossing on the waves, and its
rocking boats and vessels, and the reefs and the
fresh wind.
There were many times at Goodfields when
it was so downright hot in the valley that I felt
like crying when I thought of the sea. My
brother Karsten felt exactly the same.
There were eight mothers and eleven
chil-dren and five teachers at Goodfields that sum-
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