Olof blushed up to the eyes, and stammered a word of thanks.
The messenger pretended not to notice his confusion, and went on, smiling:
"I asked if maybe there was any message besides, and they said no, just give it you as it was—but happen you'd like to hear how 'twas given…?"
"Go on—tell me," said the young man, still with some embarrassment.
"Well, I pulled up there, as I said, and started off again just towards dusk about. Got down just past the meadow below the house, and hears someone running after. Thought maybe I'd left something behind, and so I stopped. 'Twas a neat little maid, with red cheeks, and no kerchief on her head. 'What's wrong?' says I.
"'Nothing,' says the little maid, and looks down at her shoes. 'Only you said—didn't you say Olof was staying your way just now?'
"Well, that was right enough, and I said so. 'And what then?'
"'Why,' says she, 'I know him—and I'd a message for him.'
"'Aha,' says I, and laughed a bit.
"''Twas no more than a greeting,' says she, all of a hurry like.