“Well, I hardly know,” she said, seemingly quite embarrassed.

“Oh, I’ll tell you,” broke in the busy Hansine, as she came with a pail full of salt.  “She just goes around and looks at and talks about what she calls the beauties of nature.  That she likes; but as for milking, or churning, or making cheese, well—­”

Then they all laughed good naturedly.

Hansine was a large, strong girl, with round, pleasant features.  She and the cows were good friends.  At the sound of the lur every afternoon the cows turned their grazing heads towards home, and, on their arrival, each was given a pat and a handful of salt.  Then they went quietly into their stalls.

It was quite late that evening before the milk had been strained into the wooden platters and placed in rows on the shelves in the milk house.  Hr.  Bogstad and Signe had proffered their help, but they had been ordered into the house and Signe was told to prepare the evening meal.  When Hansine came in, she found the table set with the cheese, milk, butter, and black bread, while Signe and Hr.  Bogstad sat by the large fireplace watching a pot of boiling cream mush.

The object of Hr.  Bogstad’s visit was plain enough.  He had been devoting his attentions to Signe Dahl for some time, and now that he was home from college on a vacation, it was natural that he should follow her from the village up to the mountains.

Hr.  Bogstad, though young, was one of the rich men of Nordal.  He had lately fallen heir to a large estate.  In fact, Signe’s parents, with a great many more, were but tenants of young Hr.  Henrik Bogstad; and although it was considered a great honor to have the attentions of such a promising young man—­for, in fact, Henrik was quite exemplary in all things, and had a good name in the neighborhood—­still Signe Dahl did not care for him, and was uneasy in his company.  She would rather sail with some of the fisher boys on the lake than be the object of envy by her companions.  But Signe’s slim, graceful form, large blue eyes, clear, dimpled face, light silken hair, combined with a native grace and beauty, attracted not only the fisher boys but the “fine” Hr.  Bogstad also.  She was now spending a few days with her cousin Hansine in the mountains.  Her limited knowledge of saeter life was fast being augmented under her cousin’s supervision, notwithstanding Hansine’s remarks about her inabilities.

The cabin wherein the three were seated was of the rudest kind, but everything was scrupulously clean.  The blazing pine log cast a red light over them as they sat at the table.

“So you see nothing grand in your surroundings?” asked Hr.  Bogstad of Hansine.

“How can I?  I have never been far from home.  Mountains and forests and lakes are all I know.”

“True,” said he, “and we can see grandeur and beauty by contrast only.”

“But here is Signe,” remarked Hansine; “she has never seen much of the world, yet you should hear her.  I can never get her interested in my cows.  Her mind must have been far away when she dished up the mush, for she has forgotten something.”