I answered carefully, as a man of sober judgment, that it was not a thing to swear to beforehand, but there was every sign of it.
“What sort of signs?” asked Fruen.
“The nature of the ground. And you'll notice there's willow and osiers growing about. And they like a wet soil.”
The priest nodded, and said:
“He knows his business, Marie, you can see.”
On the way back, Fruen had got so far as to argue quite unwarrantably that she could manage with one maid less once they'd water laid on. And not to fail her, I put in:
“In summer at least you might. You could water all the garden with a hose fixed to the tap and carried out through the cellar window.”
“Splendid!” she exclaimed.
But I did not venture to speak of laying a pipe to the cow-shed. I had realized all the time that with a well twice the size, and a branch pipe across the yard, the dairymaid would be saved as much as the kitchen-maids in the house. But it would cost nearly twice as much. No, it was not wise to put forward so great a scheme.
Even as it was, I had to agree to wait till Grindhusen came back. The priest said he wanted to sleep on it.