“Oh, we shall soon be hearing news from you, shan’t we?” asked Maria.
Lasse did not answer; he was struggling with a crust.
“Oh, but do cut off the crust if it’s too much for your teeth!” said Maria. Every now and then she listened at her mother’s door. “She’s dropped off, after all, poor old soul!” she said.
Kalle pretended to discover the bottle for the first time. “What! Why, we’ve got gin on the table, too, and not one of us has smelt it!” he exclaimed, and filled their glasses for the third time. Then Maria corked the bottle. “Do you even grudge us our food?” he said, making great eyes at her—what a rogue he was! And Maria stared at him with eyes that were just as big, and said: “Yah! you want to fight, do you?” It quite warmed Lasse’s heart to see their happiness.
“How’s the farmer at Stone Farm? I suppose he’s got over the worst now, hasn’t he?” said Kalle.
“Well, I think he’s as much a man as he’ll ever be. A thing like that leaves its mark upon any one,” answered Lasse. Maria was smiling, and as soon as they looked at her, she looked away.
“Yes, you may grin!” said Lasse; “but I think it’s sad!” Upon which Maria had to go out into the kitchen to have her laugh out.
“That’s what all the women do at the mere mention of his name,” said Kalle. “It’s a sad change. To-day red, to-morrow dead. Well, she’s got her own way in one thing, and that is that she keeps him to herself—in a way. But to think that he can live with her after that!”
“They seem fonder of one another than they ever were before; he can’t do without her for a single minute. But of course he wouldn’t find any one else to love him now. What a queer sort of devilment love is! But we must see about getting home.”
“Well, I’ll send you word when she’s to be buried,” said Kalle, when they got outside the house.