The things we do!

Grindhusen was a grandfather already. As soon as he'd
done painting Gunhild's cottage--two coats it was to have--he was going
off to the vicarage to dig a well. There was always work of some sort to
be had about the villages. And when winter set in, and the frost began to
bind, he would either take a turn of woodcutting in the forests or lie
idle for a spell, till something else turned up. He'd no big family to
look after now, and the morrow, no doubt, would look after itself just as
today.
"If I could only manage it," said Grindhusen, "I know what I'd do. I'd get
myself some bricklayer's tools."
"So you're a bricklayer, too?"
"Well, not much of a one, and that's the truth. But when that well's dug,
why, it'll need to be lined, that's clear...."
I sauntered about the island as usual, thinking of this and that. Peace,
peace, a heavenly peace comes to me in a voice of silence from every tree
in the wood. And now, look you, there are but few of the small birds left;
only some crows flying mutely from place to place and settling.


Pages:
5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29