“’Tis true, though, for all that.  Come out with me, and see if it’s not as I say....  Come now, there’s plenty of time.”

“What are you thinking of?  Of course we couldn’t go now—­nor any other time.”

“Yes, we can.  And now best of all.”

He went across to the corner by the cupboard, took a woollen wrap that had been hung on the line to dry, and fastened it laughingly round her head.

“There—­now we’re ready.”

The girl laughed doubtfully, took off the wrap again, and stood hesitating.

“Oh!  Don’t you understand yet?” He took the wrap and twisted it in his hands.  “You’ve got to pretend.  It’s two weeks gone now, and your ski are all ready.  We’ve tried them once or twice out in the meadow, and you manage first-rate, able to go anywhere.  And so off we go....  Look there!”

The girl joined in the game.  She moved across to the window, and looked out into the yard.

“There!  I’ve set the ski all ready, and we put them on.  Father and mother and brothers looking out to see us start.  There—­that’s mother knocking at the window.

“‘Be careful not to take her up the big hills,’ says mother.  ’She’ll fall and hurt herself if you do!’

“And I tell her we’re going up to the very top of the biggest hill we can find.  And off we go.

“And you get along splendidly.  Fall—­not a bit of it!  Off we go to the other end of the meadow, and then through the little copse out on to Hirvisuo—­all as easy as play.

“Then we come to a fence—­and that’s rather more than you can manage.  Nothing for it but I must pick you up and lift you over—­and you put your arms round me so prettily....”

Here the girl broke in hastily:  “No, no!  I shall turn back if you go on like that!”

“No, you mustn’t.  It’s a very high fence, this one.  You can get over the others, perhaps, by yourself.  We’ll see.—­And so we go on, and make our way up the slope of Kaltasenmaki—­it’s a heavy climb there.  But you know the ground—­you’ve fetched the cows home from there many a time.  And it’s just there the woodcutting begins.

“Now we’re up at the top.  It’s early morning, of course, I forgot that.  The sun’s just up, and the snow all glittering underfoot and the frost like stars hung in the branches overhead.  There! look at the trees over there on the other side.  All white and clean and lovely—­just like you.  And stars of frost there too, sparkling like your eyes.  And you think it’s lovely too—­never dreamed the forest was like that.  And of course you haven’t—­for nobody can till they’ve seen it for themselves.  There! look at that great road there lower down—­that’s the main track, where all the heavy timber goes—­hauled up from a dozen little paths either side—­a score of loads sometimes, one after another.  And some of the men come singing, or whistling, some talking and calling out to the rest; ’tis a merry business carting down the timber loads to the river.  And see there on the slope—­a couple of empty sledges on the way back—­isn’t it fine?