“Yes, my teeth were hard to get and hard to lose, and I brought my children into the world with pain, and laid them in the grave with sorrow, one after another. But except for that, I’ve never been ill, and I’ve had a good husband. He had an eye for God’s creations, and we got up with the birds every summer morning, and went out onto the heath and saw the sun rise out of the sea before we set about our days work.”
The old woman’s slow voice died away, and it was as though a song ceased to sound in their ears. They sat up and sighed. “Ah, yes,” said Lasse, “the voice of memory is pleasant!”
“What about you, Lasse?” said the old woman suddenly, “I hear you’re looking about for a wife!”
“Am I?” exclaimed Lasse, in alarm. Pelle saw Kalle wink at Maria, so they knew about it too.
“Aren’t you soon coming to show us your sweetheart?” asked Kalle. “I hear it’s a good match.”
“I don’t in the least know what you’re talking about,” said Lasse, quite confused.
“Well, well, you might do worse than that!” said the grandmother. “She’s good enough—from what I know. I hope you’ll suit one another like Anders and me. It was a happy time—the days when we went about and each did our best, and the nights when the wind blew. It was good then to be two to keep one another warm.”
“You’ve been very happy in everything, grandmother,” exclaimed Lasse.
“Yes, and I’m departing in peace and can lie quiet in my grave. I’ve not been treated unfairly in any way, and I’ve got nothing to haunt any one for. If only Kalle takes care to have me carried out feet first, I don’t expect I shall trouble you.”
“Just you come and visit us now and then if you like! We shan’t be afraid to welcome you, for we’ve been so happy together here,” said Kalle.