I
want to find out something about the Falkenbergs, if they are still there
and all well. The man answers cautiously; he stands blinking, with his
little, crafty eyes, and says: "All depends if Captain's at home."
"Is he often away, then?"
"Nay, he'll be at home."
"Has he got the field work done?"
The man smiled: "Nay, I doubt it's not finished yet."
"Are there hands enough to the place?"
"That's more than I can say; yes, I doubt there's hands enough. And the
field work's done; leastways, the manure's all carted out."
The man clicks to his horses and goes on ploughing; I walked on beside
him. There was not much to be got out of him; next time the horses stopped
for a breathing space I worried out of him a few more contradictions as to
the family at Ovrebo. The Captain, it seemed was away on manoeuvres all
through the summer, and Fruen was at home alone. Yes, they had always a
heap of visitors, of course; but the Captain was away. That is to say, not
because he wanted to; he liked best to stay at home, by all accounts, but,
of course, he'd his duty as well.
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