"Did he make your new dress, too?"
Now she laughed.
"How are you getting on?" she asked, presently.
"I am nearly through."
He had acquired the comfortable air of a man who is conscious of doing well in the world.
"It is warm here," said he; the sun had just burst forth after a long rain, and was scorching, as it can be only in September. He stretched out his legs, as far as the crooked one permitted, and lay back, letting his large hands hang down over the arms of the chair, exact pictures of the web-feet of some sea-monster.
"Why are you staring at me?" asked he, with his most comical grimace. Magnhild turned with a searching glance toward the window.
The room had become filled at once with the peculiar saddler odor which attended Skarlie: Magnhild was about to open the window, but thinking better of it stepped back again.
"Where is your lodger?"
"He is across the street."