“Give him my greetings and tell him what has happened to you,” said the peasant woman.

This the children did and were well treated.  From every farm after that it was always:  “If you happen to go in such and such a direction, stop there or there and tell them what has happened to you.”

In every farm house to which they were sent there was always a consumptive.  So Osa and Mats went through the country unconsciously teaching the people how to combat that dreadful disease.

Long, long ago, when the black plague was ravaging the country, ’twas said that a boy and a girl were seen wandering from house to house.  The boy carried a rake, and if he stopped and raked in front of a house, it meant that there many should die, but not all; for the rake has coarse teeth and does not take everything with it.  The girl carried a broom, and if she came along and swept before a door, it meant that all who lived within must die; for the broom is an implement that makes a clean sweep.

It seems quite remarkable that in our time two children should wander through the land because of a cruel sickness.  But these children did not frighten people with the rake and the broom.  They said rather:  “We will not content ourselves with merely raking the yard and sweeping the floors, we will use mop and brush, water and soap.  We will keep clean inside and outside of the door and we ourselves will be clean in both mind and body.  In this way we will conquer the sickness.”

One day, while still in Lapland, Akka took the boy to Malmberget, where they discovered little Mats lying unconscious at the mouth of the pit.  He and Osa had arrived there a short time before.  That morning he had been roaming about, hoping to come across his father.  He had ventured too near the shaft and been hurt by flying rocks after the setting off of a blast.

Thumbietot ran to the edge of the shaft and called down to the miners that a little boy was injured.

Immediately a number of labourers came rushing up to little Mats.  Two of them carried him to the hut where he and Osa were staying.  They did all they could to save him, but it was too late.

Thumbietot felt so sorry for poor Osa.  He wanted to help and comfort her; but he knew that if he were to go to her now, he would only frighten her—­such as he was!

The night after the burial of little Mats, Osa straightway shut herself in her hut.

She sat alone recalling, one after another, things her brother had said and done.  There was so much to think about that she did not go straight to bed, but sat up most of the night.  The more she thought of her brother the more she realized how hard it would be to live without him.  At last she dropped her head on the table and wept.

“What shall I do now that little Mats is gone?” she sobbed.

It was far along toward morning and Osa, spent by the strain of her hard day, finally fell asleep.