"That I can't say," answered Isak. "But you might have left the things alone."
"I'll not touch her flowers again," said Oline. But the flowers were already dead.
Again, how could it be that the Lapps came up to Sellanraa so frequently of late? Os-Anders, for instance, had no business there at all, he should have passed on his way. Twice in one summer he came across the hills, and Os-Anders, it should be remembered, had no reindeer to look to, but lived by begging and quartering himself on other Lapps. As soon as he came up to the place, Oline left her work and fell to chatting with him about people in the village, and, when he left, his sack was heavy with no end of things. Isak put up with it for two years, saying nothing.
Then Oline wanted new shoes again, and he could be silent no longer. It was in the autumn, and Oline wore shoes every day, instead of going in wooden pattens or rough hide.
"Looks like being fine today," said Isak. "H'm." That was how he began.
"Ay," said Oline.
"Those cheeses, Eleseus," went on Isak again, "wasn't it ten you counted on the shelf this morning?"
"Ay," said Eleseus.
"Well, there's but nine there now."
Eleseus counted again, and thought for a moment inside his little head; then he said: "Yes, but then Os-Anders had one to take away; that makes ten."