Halla. You get nothing but skimmed milk. I thought you would rather have that than wait until the cows had been milked. (Lets down the table-leaf.)
Arnes (sits down and reaches for the mug). God bless you, woman! I am used to having it on my knees. (Pulls out his pocket-knife and eats.)
Halla (stops in front of Kari and looks at him). You are working hard; there are drops of sweat on your forehead.
Kari. Are there? (Wipes his forehead; looks up.) Should you like to know your life beforehand? (Stands up and raises both arms to the ceiling.) I have lived where I could touch the roof over my head with my clenched fists, and I have lived where my eyes could not reach it. (Sits down.) Can you remember how few clothes I had when I came here?
Halla (sitting down). I can well remember the green knitted jerkin you wore—you have it yet—and your coat and brown breeches. (Smiling.) There was a big black patch on the left knee.
Kari. The rags on my back were all I had in the world, and now I own two new sets and even more underclothes. You deserve that I should put teeth of gold in your rake.
Halla (smiling). That rake would be too heavy for me.
Kari (looking at Halla). So many things come back to me to-night that I have not thought of before. You gave me leave to work in the smithy in my spare time instead of doing the wool-carding. You saw to it that I should be one of the men who gather the sheep down from the hills in the fall, because you knew I liked it.
Halla. That was only natural, since you are so swift of foot.
Kari. And for my bed you knitted a coverlet with seven colors in it. You have always been good to me.