Everybody was touched.

One person stood in the farthest corner, turning things over in his mind. It was Edevart. When the musician had said his thanks for what he had received, he lifted the organ case onto his back and trudged off. “The Lord be with you!” they called after him. Sorrowful eyes followed him for as long as he remained in sight. But Edevart surreptitiously followed a little way behind.

When the man reached the forest, he slowly turned around with his burden and discovered Edevart.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Nowhere,” answered Edevart.

“Nowhere? Eh?”

Edevart said: “I’ll help you with that partner of yours.”

“Help? No.”

“I’ll knock him senseless!”

At this the man smiled: his partner terrifically strong, a Hungarian, great warriors. Uses a knife.

Edevart paid no heed. He strode past the man and began to walk on ahead.

“Fool … fool!” the man shouted, suddenly angry. “Go home! What do you want here?”

Then all of a sudden another man, the partner, stepped out from behind a juniper bush, as large as life. First he took in the situation, then put a question, which the musician answered. Then they both laughed.

Edevart stood there glaring. The Hungarian moved forward belligerently. This in itself would not have deterred the crazy boy, but then the musician set down the barrel organ and also began to make threatening remarks. What was the meaning of all this? Edevart’s head was not used to coping with complicated matters; he was deplorable at reading and arithmetic. But he had two good fists; and when he was worked up showed a ready courage. But now he retreated.

The strangers were quite unconcerned about him and let him stand there. The musician took a handful of snow and rubbed the red bloodstain from his cheeks. His partner told him when it was all gone. Thereupon they opened the compartment in the barrel organ and counted the coins. The stockings were also inspected and they ended up in the Hungarian’s bag.

Then the musician slung his burden across his back again. The two of them nodded to Edevart and continued on northward to the next settlement.

Edevart was still no wiser than before about the strangers’ behavior. He had calmed down. When it finally dawned on him that he’d perhaps been made a fool of, he snatched up some snow and packed it into a ball; but when he had made it good and hard, he dropped it and let it lie.

He came home a changed lad, rather shamefaced, sorry for himself, dispirited. He went over to the little girl in the snow and asked: “Haven’t you found the button?”

“No,” she said.

“You mustn’t worry about it.”

The girl didn’t answer, but went on searching.

Edevart was bad at books and hopeless at school, but his instincts were sound, seemingly. He went over to where the barrel organ had stood and measured with his eye the distance the button could have been thrown; then he, too, began to search. The girl stuck close to him with renewed hope. “There was a crown on it,” she said of the button.

While they were searching, there was a call to the girl from one of the cottages: “Where have you got to, Ragna?” Ragna did not answer. They searched patiently. They each took a stick and dug with it; finally they found the button. The girl herself found it.