“And how nicely she read that piece!” said Stiene. “My blood crept when I heard it. Look here, Wanne Vandoorn was sitting beside me; and, you can take my word, the good soul couldn’t control herself and we both cried till we sobbed.”
“I felt it too,” said mother. “Such things are cruel hearing. And the priest....”
“Ah, he knows how to talk, that holy man! He’s a pure soul.”
“You’ll regret it all your days, Ivo, that you weren’t there to see it.”
Father nodded and took another slice of bread-and-butter.
“It’ll take me all the week to tell about it at home,” said the farmer’s wife.
The boys sat making fun among themselves of Stiene Sagaer’s crooked nose and the squeaky voice of the farmer’s wife. When the wives had done eating, they stood up and went.
When they had gone some little way, they turned round again and cried against the wind:
“It’s going to be fine to-day, Ivo!”
“And warm!” piped the farmer’s wife. “Beautiful weather!”