“What’s the matter?” asked the farmer’s wife.
The maid was silent. She sat down and said nothing.
“Dear me, what ails thee?” the housewife asked again.
“I am too scared to tell.”
“Scared?”
“Yes, it’s more like blaspheming, it is. I saw a deer’s head round by Grey Hill.”
Anne Lyhus had rolled up her sleeves. She was at work salting and kneading a lump of butter.
“Haven’t you seen a deer’s head before this?” she asked.
“Yes, but that deer’s head had eyes like a human being. And worst of all I recognised them!”