"If she should slip anywhere----"
"I'll keep watch on her all her life, Thora."
The joyous trill came again, but with a slightly different note: Then: "Magnus?"
"Yes, Thora?"
"Why don't you marry and have a little Elin of your own, you know?"
"I? Oh, no." And then a gruff laugh and something about "a poor farmer."
"Don't say that, Magnus."
Then the silvery voice that came to him through the open door became serious and sweetly patronizing, hoping he would be happy and prosperous at Thingvellir. It wasn't a great life, certainly, not a distinguished career like Oscar's--that is to say what Oscar was to be--and it wanted hard work early and late, yet still----
"But, Magnus, you've been here three days, haven't you? How have you been able to spare them?"
"I'll make up for them when I get home, Thora."