I am comfortable and feel very much at home; how I should like to stay here! I should pay well for my keep, and make myself useful and popular; I shouldn't harm a fly. But that evening I tell Nikolai that I must think of moving on; this will not do.... And perhaps he will mention it.... "Can't you stop a while longer?" he says. "But I suppose it isn't the kind of place--" "God bless you, Nikolai; it _is_ the kind of place, but--well, it's spring now, and I always travel in the spring. I should have to be very low before I gave that up. And besides, I expect you're both pretty tired of me, at least your wife." This, too, I hoped he would mention. Then I packed my knapsack and waited. No--no one came to take the knapsack out of my hand and forbid me to pack any farther. So perhaps Nikolai hasn't mentioned it. The man never does open his mouth. So I placed the knapsack on a chair in the middle of the room, all packed and ready, for everyone to see that we're leaving. And I waited for the morning of the next day, and this time the knapsack _was_ observed. No, it wasn't. So I had to wait till the housewife called us to the midday meal, and tell her then, pointing to what was in the middle of the room: "I'm afraid I shall have to be leaving today." "No! Really? Why do you want to go away?" she said. "Why? Well, don't you think I should?" "Well, of course--But you might have stayed on a bit longer; the cows will be going out to spring pasture now, and we should have had more milk." That was all we said about it, and then she went back to her work. Bravo, Fru Ingeborg. You're true-blue. It struck me then, as it had done already on several occasions, that she had grown very like Josephine at Tore Peak, both in her way of thinking and her mode of expression. Twelve years of school had laid no foundations in her young mind, though it had loosened much that was firm within her. But that did not matter, as long as she kept a firm hold now. * * * * * Nikolai is going down to the trading center, and since he will be bringing back some sacks of flour, he intends to drive. I know very well that I ought to go with him, because then I could catch the mail packet next day but one. I explain this to Nikolai and pay my bill. While he is harnessing the horse, I finish packing my bag. Oh, these eternal journeys! Hardly am I settled in one place than I am again unsettled in another--no home, no roots. What are those bells I hear? Ah, yes--Fru Ingeborg lets the cows out. They are going to pasture for the first time this spring, so that they shall give more milk.... Here comes Nikolai to tell me he is ready. Yes, here is the knapsack.... "Nikolai, isn't it a bit early to let the cows out?" "Yes, but they're getting restless in the cow houses."