“I thought.... No, I don't know. But, anyhow, he'll get better. And then it will be all right again, surely.” “Yes, yes....” Pause. It sounded as if she had been making fun of me. Then suddenly she said with a smile: “What a strange fellow you are! What makes you walk all that way to come and sit here of an evening?” “It's just a little habit I've got lately. For something to do till bedtime.” “Then you're not afraid?” Her jesting tone gave me courage; I felt myself on surer ground, and answered: “No, that's just the trouble. I wanted to learn to shiver and shake.” “Learn to shiver and shake? Like the boy in the fairy tale. Now where did you read about that, I wonder?” “I don't know. In some book or other, I suppose.” Pause. “Why wouldn't you come and work for us when Father asked you?” “I'd be no good at that sort of work. I'm going out on the roads now with another man.” “Which way are you going?” “That I cannot say. East or west. We are just wanderers.” Pause. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I mean, I don't think it's wise of you.... Oh, but what was it you said about Erik? I only came to ask about him....” “He's in a baddish way now, but still.” “Does the doctor think he will get better?” “Yes, as far as I know. I've not heard otherwise.” “Well--good-night.” Oh to be young and rich and handsome, and famous and learned in sciences!... There she goes.... Before leaving the churchyard I found a serviceable thumbnail and put it in my pocket. I waited a little, peering this way and that, and listening, but all was still. No voice came saying, “That's mine!” XII Falkenberg and I set out. It is evening; cool air and a lofty sky with stars lighting up. I persuaded him to go round by way of the churchyard; in my foolishness I wished to go that way, to see if there should be light in one little window down at the vicarage. Oh to be young and rich and.... We walked some hours, having but little weight to carry, and, moreover, we were two wanderers still a bit strange each to the other, so we could talk a little. We passed by the first trading station, and came to another; we could see the tower of the annexe church in the evening light. From sheer habit I would have gone into the churchyard here as well. I said: “What do you think? We might find a place here for the night?” “No sense on earth in that,” said Falkenberg, “when there's hay in every barn along the road. And if we're turned out, there'll be shelter in the woods.” And we went on again, Falkenberg leading. He was a man of something over thirty. Tall and well-built, but with a slight stoop; his long moustaches rounded downwards. He was short of speech for the most, quick-witted and kindly; also he had a splendid voice for songs; a different sort from Grindhusen in every way. And when he spoke he used odd words from different local dialects, with a touch of Swedish here and there; no one could tell what part he came from.