"Two rooms, no more—but two big ones." And Olof told them all his plans for doors and windows and stoves, and an attic above the entrance—he had thought it all out beforehand.
"Yes, yes…. But where are you going to build?"
"On the little hill beside Isosuo marsh—that's where I thought."
"Isosuo marsh?" cried the trees, looking in wonder first at one another and then at Olof himself. Then they smiled triumphantly.
"Bravo!" they cried in chorus. "Bravo, and good luck go with your building, and prosperity roof over all! 'Tis good to see there's some that still dare begin life for themselves in the forest."
"'Tis that I'm hoping to do—that and no more."
"But what do folk say to it? Don't they think you're mad?"
"They call me nothing as yet, for I've not told any of what I'm doing."
"Just as well, perhaps," said the trees.
And they fell to talking of Isosuo, of drains and ditching, the nature of the soil, and all that Olof would have to do.