by with his dog, brought news that folk in the village had cut their
corn already, for fodder.

"'Tis a poor look out," said Inger, "when it comes to that."

"Ay. But they've the herring. A fine haul, 'tis said. Your Uncle
Sivert, he's going to build a country house."

"Why, he was none so badly off before."

"That's true. And like to be the same with you, for all it seems."

"Why, as to that, thank God, we've enough for our little needs. What
do they say at home about me up here?"

Os-Anders wags his head helplessly; there's no end to the great things
they say; more than he can tell. A pleasant-spoken fellow, like all
the Lapps.

"If as you'd care for a dish of milk now, you've only to say so," says
Inger.

"'Tis more than's worth your while. But if you've a sup for the dog
here...."

Milk for Os-Anders, and food for the dog. Os-Anders lifts his head
suddenly, at a kind of music inside the house.

"What's that?"