"It is not one of the country songs, that?"
"No, I hear it is not."
"Ovind Pladsen has been a great deal in Ostistuen; it must be one of those he has introduced; where he is, there is sure to be song."
No reply.
The field they went over was not in good condition, it wanted attention. The schoolmaster remarked it, whereupon Ole stopped.
"I cannot do any more," he said, almost in tears; "but it is hard to go over such a field, you may be sure."
As they began to talk again about the size of the farm, and what most required attention, they concluded to go up the hill side, where they could overlook the whole. When they had reached the place, and could see the farm laid out before them, the old man was quite moved.
"I should not like to leave it as it is. We have worked hard there both I and my parents before me; but now nothing is to be seen of our labour."
Just then, right above their heads, there burst out a song, with that peculiar sharpness that a lad's voice has when it is changing. They were not far from the tree where little Knut Ostistuen was sitting, pulling leaves for his father, and they listened to the song:--
All along by copse and glade