"Well, well, my dear Margit, we will talk no more about it."
Then, while he was walking up and down, he suddenly added, "Do you think you would of yourself have come out to me with this wish of yours?"
"Well,—I had already come out with so much, that I dare say this, too, would have come out at last."
The Clergyman laughed, but he did not tell her what he thought. After a while he stood still. "Well, we will manage this matter for you, Margit," he said.
"God bless you for it!" She rose to go, for she understood he had now said all he wished to say.
"And we will look after them a little."
"I don't know how to thank you enough," she said, taking his hand and courtesying.
"God be with you!" he replied.
She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, went towards the door, courtesied again, and said, "Good bye," while she slowly opened and shut it. But so lightly as she went towards Kampen that day, she had not gone for many, many years. When she had come far enough to see the thick smoke curling up cheerfully from the chimney, she blessed the house, the whole place, the Clergyman and Arne,—and remembered they were going to have her favorite dish, smoked ham, for dinner.