"I've brought a paper of coffee too," she said. "But you can't
have any this evening, for it's not roasted yet."
"'Tis more than's needed this evening and all," said he.
An hour later the sun goes down, and it grows colder. Inger gets down
to walk. Together they tuck the rug closer about Leopoldine, and smile
to see how soundly she can sleep. Man and wife talk together again on
their way. A pleasure it is to hear Inger's voice; none could speak
clearer than Inger now.
"Wasn't it four cows we had?" she asks.
"'Tis more than that," says he proudly. "We've eight."
"Eight cows!"
"That is to say, counting the bull."
"Have you sold any butter?"
"Ay, and eggs."
"What, have we chickens now?"
"Ay, of course we have. And a pig."
Inger is so astonished at all this that she forgets herself
altogether, and stops for a moment--"_Ptro_!" And Isak is proud and
keeps on, trying to overwhelm her completely.
"That Geissler," he says, "you remember him? He came up a little while
back."
"Oh?"
"I've sold him a copper mine.
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