Marit laughed. "Oh! that's Lars Tobiassen's boy, that is."
"He never does anything else but scream," was suddenly heard from the little girl behind her grandmother's gown. She came forward in her excitement. Then, frightened at the sound of her own voice, she hid her head again.
"Perhaps the lady knows Lars Tobiassen?" inquired Marit.
Tomasine noticed something in her voice. "No, what is he?"
"It is rather a difficult job to say, that," answered Marit. "He's such a lot of things. He's a hard drinker, he is. He's turned butcher lately, for they say as drinking won't do no harm in that business. Have you never seen him?"
"No, why do you ask me?"
"Ah, I don't hardly like to say anything about it," and she laughed rather slyly.
"But why not?"
"Well, I only says what others says to me. It was not as found it out," and she laughed again.
"What is said, then?"