Queer thing,
isn't it? Here's Lars went on year after year sowing by machine, and
thought it good enough. Not if I know it! We'll sow ours by hand."
"But why?"
"On land like ours! Now just take the man over there, for instance; he
sowed by machine three weeks ago and some's come up and some not. No. The
machine goes too deep in the soil."
"H'm! Don't the jasmines smell fine tonight?"
"Yes. There's been a big difference with the barley and oats these last
few days. Getting on time for bed, though, now!"
He got up, but I did not move. "Looks like being fine again tomorrow,"
says Nils, glancing at the sky. And then he went on about the grass in the
garden; worth cutting, he said it was.
"You going to stay down here long?" he asked suddenly.
"Yes, for a bit; why not? Oh, well, perhaps I'd better go up too."
Nils walked off a few paces, then came back again.
"Better not stay here any longer," he said. "Come along up here with me."
"Think so?" I said, and rose at once.
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