Now it was Fru Heyerdahl that had praised him up so that last autumn,
saying he was a splendid fellow and she had always thought well of
him; and one good turn was worth another, no doubt. Axel knew the way
of doing things; 'twas an old story, when simple folk had dealing with
their betters, with authority. And he had thought at once of a piece
of butcher's meat, a bull he had, that might be useful there. But time
went on, and month and month passed by and autumn was gone, and the
bull was never killed. And what harm could it do, after all, if he
kept it for himself?--give it away, and he would be so much poorer.
And 'twas a fine beast, anyway.
"H'm, _Goddag_. Nay," said Axel, shaking his head; he'd no meat with
him today.
But Fru Heyerdahl seemed to be guessing his thoughts, for she said:
"I've heard you've an ox, or what?"
"Ay, so I have," said Axel.
"Are you going to keep it?"
"Ay, I'll be keeping him yet."
"I see. You've no sheep to be killed?"
"Not now I haven't. 'Tis this way, I've never had but what's to be
kept on the place.
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