"Ho," says Oline, "so you're that sort! Ay, well—say no more of it now. I can live without the cow from this day forth, and never a word I'll say nor breathe of it again. But well that you've shown what sort and manner of man you are this day; I know it now. Ay, and I'll know it another time."
But Oline, she died that night—some time in the night; anyway, she was cold next morning when they came in.
Oline—an aged creature. Born and died….
'Twas no sorrow to Axel nor Barbro to bury her, and be quit of her for ever; there was less to be on their guard against now, they could be at rest. Barbro is having trouble with her teeth again; save for that, all is well. But that everlasting woollen muffler over her face, and shifting it aside every time there's a word to say—'twas plaguy and troublesome enough, and all this toothache is something of a mystery to Axel. He has noticed, certainly, that she chews her food in a careful sort of way, but there's not a tooth missing in her head.
"Didn't you get new teeth?" he asks.
"Ay, so I did."
"And are they aching, too?"
"Ah, you with your nonsense!" says Barbro irritably, for all that Axel has asked innocently enough. And in her bitterness she lets out what is the matter. "You can see how 'tis with me, surely?"
How 'twas with her? Axel looks closer, and fancies she is stouter than need be.
"Why, you can't be—'tis surely not another child again?" says he.