"But he who takes her, how will he manage the farm? This I long to know before I die. There is haste Baard, both for me and the farm."
After a pause, the schoolmaster said, "Shall we go out a little and look at the farm, this fine day?"
"Yes, let us go, I have labourers up there; they gather the leaves, but they don't work except they see me."
He hobbled for his great cap and stick, saying as he went, "They don't like working for me, I don't know how it is."
On coming out and turning the corner, he exclaimed, "Here you see, no order; the wood scattered all over, the axe not stuck in the log." He bent over with difficulty, took it up and slashed it in.
"There, do you see that sheep skin fallen down, but has any one hung it up?" He did it himself.
"And there is the ladder out of place." He put it right, and turning to the schoolmaster, said, "The same thing day after day!"
As they went further they heard a lively song from the fields.
"Hark! they are singing at work," said the schoolmaster.
"No, it is little Knut Ostistuen who is singing; he is gathering leaves for his father. It is over there my people are working, they are not singing."