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“That is true. We can do that,” said the man, delighted; “perhaps they won’t want anything for the kettle when they know they can’t use it any more. Come, Sami,” he called to the boy, who stood staring at them on the other side of the fire, and had heard and understood everything–“come here, I want to tell you something.”

Sami obeyed.

“Run quickly up to the old house, where you brought the little kettle from, and say it isn’t good for anything, that it can’t be mended any more.”

Sami, filled with horror, stared at the man. “Now hurry up and go along,” said his wife, who was still standing there; “you understand well enough what you have to do.”

Sami continued looking at the man without moving, as if he really had not understood his words.

“What is the matter with you? Why don’t you hurry along?” snarled the man to him.

“I can’t do that. You are not God-fearing if you do such a thing as that,” said Sami.

“What is it to you, what I do? Be quick and go along!” commanded the tinker, and his wife screamed angrily:

“Do you think a little beggar like you is going to tell us what is God-fearing? We ought to know much better than you! Will you do at once what you are told, or not?”

Sami did not stir.

“Will you go and do what I told you, or–“

The man raised his hand high up. Sami was pale with fright. Suddenly he turned around, ran to the wagon, took his bundle out, and ran with all his might up the road, turned to the right between the high walls and rushed on into the open field. Not a moment did he stop running, until he had reached the ash-trees. The spot was like a place of refuge to him. Breathless, he sat down on the wall. The twilight was already coming on and it was perfectly still all around. No one had run after him as he feared. He was quite alone.

Now he began to think. It was all done so quickly that he had only now come to his senses. Yes, it was right that he had run away, for what he had to do was something wrong, and he had to come away because they were not God-fearing. It surely would seem right to his grandmother that he had done this. But where should he go now? The people had all gone home from the fields, perhaps were already asleep. Up in the ash-trees not one little bird made a single sound. They were surely all in their nests and fast asleep. If the dear Lord kept them up there in the trees safe from all harm, so that they could sleep so well, He would surely protect him too under the trees. In this spot he always had the feeling that his grandmother was nearer to him than anywhere else, and this gave him confidence. So he laid himself down under the tree quite trustfully and immediately after he had ended his evening prayer, his eyes closed, for the brook was murmuring such a beautiful slumber song under the ash-trees there.

Golden sunshine was streaming in Sami’s eyes when he awoke. Above him all the birds were warbling their morning song up into the blue sky. It sounded like pure thanksgiving and delight. It awakened in Sami’s heart the same tones, and he had to sing praise and thanksgiving, for the dear Lord had protected him too so well through the night and let His golden sun shine on him again. With a clear voice Sami joined in the glad chorus and sang a hymn of praise and thanksgiving, the only one he knew:

“Last night Summer breezes blew:–
All the flowers awake anew,”

And when he had come to the end, he sang like the merry finch with all his might:

“Trust! Trust! Trust! Trust!
Only trust the dear Lord!”