"Oh, is it," said the farmer's son who stood with his father on the thrashing-floor shaking out some straw. "Well, that's as it may be!"
"Ay, but she says you're the father."
"Oh, does she! Can she prove it, I'd like to know."
"She can take her oath on it, she can. So you had better marry the girl."
The farmer's son shouted with laughter.
"Oh, you laugh, do you?" Sören picked up a hayfork and made for the lad, who hid behind the threshing-machine, livid with fear.
"Look here," the boy's father broke in: "Don't you think we two old ones had better go outside and talk the matter over? Young folk nowadays are foolish. Whatever the boy's share in the matter may be, I don't believe he'll marry her," began he, as they were outside.
"That he shall, though," answered Sören, threateningly.
"Look you, the one thing to compel him is the law—and that she will not take, if I know anything about her. But, I'll not say but he might help the girl to a proper marriage—will you take two hundred crowns once and for all?"
Sören thought in his own mind that it was a large sum of money for a poor babe, and hurried to close the bargain in case the farmer might draw back.