Jan sent his boy for bread and meat. “Thou art hungry I know,” he said; “when did thou eat?”
“Not since morning. To-day I was not hungry, I thought only of seeing thee again.”
At first neither spoke of the subject nearest to Jan’s heart. There was much to tell of people long known to both men, but gradually the conversation became slower and more earnest, and then Snorro began to talk of Peter Fae and his marriage. “It hath been a good thing for Peter,” he said; “he looks by ten years a younger man.”
“And Suneva, is she happy?”
“Well, then, she dresses gayly, and gives many fine parties, and is what she likes best of all, the great lady of the town. But she hath not a bad heart, and I think it was not altogether her fault if thy wife was——”
“If my wife was what, Snorro?”
“If thy wife was unhappy in her house. The swan and the kittywake can not dwell in the same nest.”
“What hast thou to tell me of my wife and son?”
“There is not such a boy as thy boy in all Scotland. He is handsomer than thou art. He is tall and strong, and lish and active as a fish. He can dive and swim like a seal, he can climb like a whaler’s boy, he can fling a spear, and ride, and run, and read; and he was beginning to write his letters on a slate when I came away. Also, he was making a boat, for he loves the sea, as thou loves it. Oh, I tell thee, there is not another boy to marrow thy little Jan.”