The things we do!

I asked where it had come from.
The good woman did not know. Must be something her husband had bought in
his time.
"Did he buy it here?"
More likely 'twould have been at Hersat, where he had been in service as a
young man. Might be thirty years gone now.
I have a little plan in my head already, and say:
"That picture is worth a deal of money."
The woman thinks I am making game of her, so I make a close inspection of
the picture, and declare emphatically that it is no cheap print--no.
But the woman is quite stupid, and simply says: well, did I think so, now?
The thing had hung there ever since the house was built. It was Olga's, by
the way, she had called it hers from the time she was a little one.
I put on a knowing, mysterious air, and ask for further details of the
case--where Hersat might be.
Hersat was in the neighbouring parish, some eight miles away. The Lensmand
lived there....
The coffee is ready, and Olga and I call a halt. There are only the
fastenings to be done now.


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