watches, for if they could not cross the Tore fjeld before nightfall, they
would have to spend the night outdoors. One of them suggested to the
others that perhaps this delay was intentional. The owner of the place
probably wanted them to spend the night there; they began to grumble among
themselves, and at last they asked:

"Where is the master, the host?"

"He's ill," said Josephine.

Solem returned and said:

"Einar hasn't time to come; he's lifting his potatoes."

A pause.

Then Josephine said:

"I've got to go across the fjeld anyhow--wait a minute!"

She was gone for a moment, then returned, loaded the bags and knapsacks on
her little back, and trotted off. The others followed.

I caught up with Josephine and took her burden from her. But I would not
allow her to turn back, for this little tour away from the house would do
her good. We walked together and talked on the way: she had really no
complaints, she said, for she had a tidy sum of money saved up.

When we reached the top of the fjeld, Josephine wanted to turn back. She
thought it a waste of time to walk by my side, with nothing to do but