“Why, as to that, thank God, we’ve enough for our little needs.  What do they say at home about me up here?”

Os-Anders wags his head helplessly; there’s no end to the great things they say; more than he can tell.  A pleasant-spoken fellow, like all the Lapps.

“If as you’d care for a dish of milk now, you’ve only to say so,” says Inger.

“’Tis more than’s worth your while.  But if you’ve a sup for the dog here....”

Milk for Os-Anders, and food for the dog.  Os-Anders lifts his head suddenly, at a kind of music inside the house.

“What’s that?”

“’Tis only our clock,” says Inger.  “It strikes the hours that way.”  Inger bursting with pride.

The Lapp wags his head again:  “House and cattle and all manner of things.  There’s nothing a man could think of but you’ve that thing.”

“Ay, we’ve much to be thankful for, ’tis true.”

“I forgot to say, there’s Oline was asking after you.”

“Oline?  How is it with her?”

“She’s none so poorly.  Where will your husband be now?”

“He’ll be at work in the fields somewhere.”

“They say he’s not bought yet,” says the Lapp carelessly.

“Bought?  Who says so?”

“Why, ’tis what they say.”

“But who’s he to buy from?  ’Tis common land.”

“Ay, ’tis so.”

“And sweat of his brow to every spade of it.”

“Why, they say ’tis the State owns all the land.”

Inger could make nothing of this.  “Ay, maybe so.  Was it Oline said so?”

“I don’t well remember,” says the Lapp, and his shifty eyes looked all ways around.

Inger wondered why he did not beg for anything; Os-Anders always begged, as do all the Lapps.  Os-Anders sits scraping at the bowl of his clay pipe, and and lights up.  What a pipe!  He puffs and draws at it till his wrinkled old face looks like a wizard’s runes.

“No need to ask if the little ones there are yours,” says he, flattering again.  “They’re as like you as could be.  The living image of yourself when you were small.”

Now Inger was a monster and a deformity to look at; ’twas all wrong, of course, but she swelled with pride for all that.  Even a Lapp can gladden a mother’s heart.

“If it wasn’t that your sack there’s so full, I’d find you something to put in it,” says Inger.

“Nay, ’tis more than’s worth your while.”

Inger goes inside with the child on her arm; Eleseus stays outside with the Lapp.  The two make friends at once; the child sees something curious in the sack, something soft and fluffy, and wants to pat it.  The dog stands alert, barking and whining.  Inger comes out with a parcel of food; she gives a cry, and drops down on the door-slab.

“What’s that you’ve got there?  What is it?”

“Tis nothing.  Only a hare.”

“I saw it.”

“’Twas the boy wanted to look.  Dog ran it down this morning and killed it, and I brought it along....”