"Oyvind is his name, is it not?"
"Yes; they call him Oyvind."
"He has been at one of those agricultural schools down south, I believe?"
"There was something of the kind; yes."
"Well, my girl—she—my granddaughter—Marit, you know—she has gone mad of late."
"That is too bad."
"She refuses to marry."
"Well, really?"
"She will not have any of the gard boys who offer themselves."
"Ah, indeed."