"Come inside and get something to eat."

"Did you see her? Isn't she a pretty cow?"

"Ay, a fine cow," said Isak. And speaking as carelessly as he could,
he asked, "Where d'you get her?"

"Her name's Goldenhorns. What's that wall to be for you've been
building up here? You'll work yourself to death, you will. Oh, come
and look at the cow, now, won't you?"

They went out to look, and Isak was in his underclothes, but that was
no matter. They looked and looked the cow all over carefully, in every
part, and noted all the markings, head and shoulders, buttocks and
thighs, where it was red and white, and how it stood.

"How old d'you think she might be?" asked Isak cautiously.

"Think? Why, she's just exactly a tiny way on in her fourth year. I
brought her up myself, and they all said it was the sweetest calf
they'd ever seen. But will there be feed enough here d'you think?"

Isak began to believe, as he was only too willing to do, that all was
well. "As for the feed, why, there'll be feed enough, never fear."

Then they went indoors to eat and drink and make an evening together.
They lay awake talking of Cow; of the great event. "And isn't she a
dear cow, too? Her second's on the way. And her name's Goldenhorns.
Are you asleep, Isak?"