“It’s only an idea of mine. He is young, and full of energy.... But, of course, I may be wrong.”
“I fancy you are right,” said Ormarr. “More so, perhaps, than you imagine.”
There was a pause. Ormarr was the first to speak.
“Look here,” he said. “Let Ørlygur ride over now and fetch the girl, and you stay here for tonight. We have not seen much of each other up to now, but you have been a good friend to my son—my foster-son, that is. There are several things we two old fellows could find to talk about. Besides, you must be tired.”
The doctor accepted the invitation, and when Ørlygur was ready to start, Ormarr went up to him.
“You will bring her home here, of course. But I think you ought to go round by Bolli, and bring her mother as well.”
Ørlygur answered with a grateful glance and a nod. And no more was said.
Ormarr Ørlygsson and Jon Hallsson sat long talking together. Each sat by a window, watching the little streams of moisture that trickled down the panes.
The doctor seemed weary and in low spirits.