"H'm. Maybe. What I was going to say: How it was like with you all the years there? Bearable like?" Oh, Isak was soft at heart now; he asked her that, and wondered in his mind.
And Inger said: "Ay, 'twas nothing to complain of."
They talked more feelingly together, and Isak asked if she wasn't tired of walking, and would get up in the cart a bit of way. "No, thanks all the same," said she. "But I don't know what's the matter with me today; after being ill on the boat, I feel hungry all the time."
"Why, did you want something, then?"
"Yes, if you don't mind stopping so long."
Oh, that Inger, maybe 'twas not for herself at all, but for Isak's sake. She would have him eat again; he had spoiled his last meal chewing twigs of heather.
And the evening was light and warm, and they had but a few miles more to go; they sat down to eat again.
Inger took a parcel from her box, and said:
"I've a few things I brought along for the boys. Let's go over there in the bushes, it's warmer there."
They went across to the bushes, and she showed him the things; neat braces with buckles for the boys to wear, copy-books with copies at the top of the page, a pencil for each, a pocket-knife for each. And there was an excellent book for herself, she had. "Look, with my name in and all. A prayer-book." It was a present from the Governor, by way of remembrance.