“You may as well go on with it now you've got so far. I don't know what possessed you, I'm sure. But get on with it now.” The window had been open before, but he slammed it to and I went on with the work. A week passed. I spent my time between painting and haymaking. Grindhusen was good enough at hoeing potatoes and using a rake here and there, but not of much account when it came to loading hay. Nils himself was a first-rate hand, and a glutton for work. I gave the house a third coat, and the delicate grey, picked out with white, made the place look nobler altogether. One afternoon I was at work, the Captain came walking up from the road. He watched me for a bit, then took out his handkerchief as if the heat troubled him, and said: “Yes, better go on with it now you've got so far. I must say she wasn't far wrong about the colour. All nonsense though, really! H'm!” I made no answer. The Captain used his handkerchief again and said: “Hot again today--puh! What was I going to say? ... yes, it doesn't look so bad after all. No, she was right--that is, I mean, you were right about the colour. I was looking at it from down there just now, and it makes quite a handsome place. And anyhow, it's too late to alter it now.” “I thought so too,” I said. “It suits the house.” “Yes, yes, it suits the house, as it were. And what was it she said about the woods behind--my wife, I mean? The background, or something?” “It's a long time ago now, but I'm almost sure....” “Yes, yes, never mind. I must say I never thought it would turn out like that--turn out so well. Will you have enough white, though, to finish?” “Well ... yes, I sent back the yellow and got some white instead.” The Captain smiled, shook his head, and walked away. So I had been right after all! Haymaking took up all my time now till it was done, but Nils lent me a hand in return, painting at the summer-house in the evening. Even Grindhusen joined in and took a brush. He wasn't much of a painter, he said, but he reckoned he could be trusted to paint a bit of a wall. Grindhusen was picking up fast. At last the buildings were finished; hardly recognizable, they were, in their new finery. And when we'd cleaned up a bit in the shrubbery and the little park--this was our own idea--the whole place looked different altogether. And the Captain thanked us specially for what we'd done. We started on the rye then, and at the same time the autumn rain set in; but we worked away all we knew, and there came a spell of sunshine in between whiles. There were big fields of thick, heavy rye, and big fields again of oats and barley, not yet ripe. It was a rich landscape to work in. The clover was seeding, but the turnips were somewhat behindhand. A good soaking would put them right, said Nils.