with Roennaug in the court-yard. Evening was
drawing nigh; the fowls had already sought shelter and were settling
themselves cackling on the roost; the cows were being driven home from
the pasture, and slowly passed by. The perfume of hay was wafted toward
the ladies, ever and anon, for loads were being hauled into the barn.

Roennaug was so sure of what she was doing that she did not hesitate to
tell Magnhild what the same mail had brought her: it was a newspaper
containing a telegram from Munich announcing the death of Tande. These
tidings produced no further effect upon Magnhild than to make both her
and Roennaug pause for an instant and then walk on in silence. Tande had
always been thought of as one very far away, and now he seemed nearer.
What he had recently sent her for her guidance became more profoundly
true than ever.

The first words she uttered were not about Tande but about Skarlie.
Perhaps it would be best to send for him that they might have an
explanation before she started on her journey. Roennaug was not
disinclined to agree to this; but she thought that she, not Magnhild,
should attend to the explanation. In fact, there was nothing to say
except to announce what Magnhild had resolved upon doing.

The conversation was spasmodic like their walk. All the people of the
house were out making hay. Miss Roland and the child had also gone to
the field. Magnhild and Roennaug were about going there themselves when a
boy came walking into the yard whistling, with his hands in his pockets.
Seeing the ladies he stood still and stopped whistling. Then he took a
stand on his right foot; the left heel he planted in the ground, and
moved his leg in such a way that the sole of the foot stood erect and
fanned the air.

Presently he drew nearer.

"Is it you they call Magnhild?" he asked, in the ringing dialect of the
parish.

He addressed the question to the right one, who replied in the
affirmative.

"I was sent to ask you to come down to our place, Synstevold; for there
is a fellow there waiting to see you."

"What is his name?" asked Roennaug.

"I was told not to tell," said the boy, as he planted his left heel in
the ground again, fanned the air with his foot, and stared at the barn.

Roennaug broke into the dialect as she asked whether the "fellow" was not
lame.

"That is very possible," answered the boy, with a grin, and an oath.

Here Roennaug ran to meet old Andreas who was just coming out of the