"It will take a heavy blow to bend that head," said her own mother. "As a child you have often trampled on my apron; I fear when you are grown up you will trample on my heart!"
This she did with a vengeance.
She was sent into service in the country with some rich people. They treated her as if she had been their own child, and dressed her in the same style. She grew prettier and prettier, but her pride grew, too.
When she had been with them a year, her employers said to her, "You ought to go home to see your parents, little Inger!"
So she went, but she went to show herself only, so that they might see how grand she was. When she got to the town gates, and saw the young men and maids gossiping round the pond, and her mother sitting among them with a bundle of sticks she had picked up in the woods, Inger turned away. She was ashamed that one so fine as herself should have such a ragged old woman, who picked up sticks, for her mother. She was not a bit sorry that she had turned back, only angry.
Another half year passed.
"Little Inger, you really ought to go and see your old parents," said her mistress. "Here is a large loaf of wheaten bread you may take to them. They will be pleased to see you."
Inger put on all her best clothes, and her fine new shoes; she held up her skirts and picked her steps carefully so as to keep her shoes nice and clean. Now no one could blame her for this; but when she came to the path through the marsh a great part of it was wet and muddy, and she threw the loaf into the mud for a stepping-stone, to get over with dry shoes. As she stood there with one foot on the loaf and was lifting up the other for the next step, the loaf sank deeper and deeper with her till she entirely disappeared. Nothing was to be seen but a black bubbling pool.
Now this is the story.
