When Lisbeth went to fasten the gate of the fold that evening Peter Lunde came bobbing along outside the fence.
"You haven't a strange sheep here, have you?"
"No; I have counted mine."
"Well, perhaps I counted mine wrong. Very likely they are all there."
The two stood looking at each other for a while; then both grew shy and had to turn their eyes away. At last Peter said: "Lisbeth, if you want to, you may tend your flock wherever we tend ours, and you may come to our pond. I understood Ole to say that he is willing, too; but if he makes any fuss about it, why I can thrash him if I really want to."
"Yes, I will come gladly, you may be sure."
"Well, then, I will come after you to-morrow morning, back of the hill here."
Lisbeth did not get a chance to say anything more, for Peter was off like a flash around the corner. He had seen Ole coming.
Ole came lounging along in his usual fashion, with his hands in his pockets.