The traveler turned to look after a tall woman in a waterproof cloak who had just walked past. He had caught a glimpse of a delicately-outlined face, beneath a hood which was drawn over the brow; now he saw the owner standing with her forefinger in her mouth, staring. As he was somewhat persistent in his gaze, she blushed.
"I will step in just as soon as I put up the horse," called out the skyds-girl.
They drove on.
"Who was that, my dear?" asked the traveler.
"She is the wife of the saddler down at yonder point," was the reply.
In a little while they had advanced far enough to gain a view of the fjord and the first houses on the point. The skyds-girl reined in the horse and jumped down from the trunk. She first attended to the animal's appearance, and then busied herself with her own toilet. It had ceased raining, and she removed her kerchief, folded it, and stowed it away in a little pocket in front of the cariole. Then thrusting her fingers under her head-kerchief she tried to arrange her hair, which hung in matted locks over her cheeks.
"She had such a singular look,"—he pointed over his shoulders.
The girl fixed her eyes on him, and she began to hum. Presently she interrupted herself with,—
"Do you remember the land-slide you passed a few miles above here?"
"I passed so many land-slides."