"'That's for him?' says I. 'Give it him just as it is?'

"'Yes. You won't open it, I know. Though, to be sure, anyone can tell
what's inside. But be sure no one sees you give it him. There's no
message, only just that.'

"Well, I was just on the way to tell her I'd sense enough to do that
without being asked--but all of a sudden she's off, racing away with
her hair flying behind. Ay, that was the way of it, and now I've told
you, I'll be off."

"Good-night, then," said Olof. "And many thanks."

Olof sank into a chair by the table, holding the packet in his hand.
He knew well enough what was inside, but hesitated to open it. He was
thinking of what had happened there--he could see it himself as in
a vision. A bright-eyed girl, slight of figure, hardly more than
a child, sat at one end of the room, and at the other a traveller,
eating from the red-painted box in which he carried his food. The man
spoke of the weather, how the first snow had come, and it was good
going underfoot; where he came from, too, the woodcutters had already
started work. More work than usual this season, and the gang foreman
had taken on a new hand, a young fellow--Olof was his name.

And the girl all but cries his name aloud, blushes violently, and lays
down her work to listen. But the traveller says no more of what she is
longing to hear, only talks of this and that--all manner of trifling
things. The girl is restless, uncertain what to do--but she must do
something. And she watches the man's face closely as he sits smoking
his pipe on the bench. "He looks honest, and kindly," she thinks to
herself. "I could trust him, I know."

And then quietly she slips off to her own room, as if to fetch
something, and takes something from a drawer--a little thing she
has kept there long. Looks for some paper, or a bag, to put it in,
searches and looks again, and finds it at last, packs it up and ties
it round with string, tying the hardest knot she can manage, and
cutting the ends off close, so it can't be opened without being
seen--and laughs to herself.

Then she goes back to the room, with the thing in her pocket. The
traveller is getting ready to go.

"'Tis time to mix the cattle food," says the girl. And from the
kitchen window she can see the traveller come out to his horse and
make ready to start. He drives out of the yard and down the road at a
trot. "Now!" says she to herself, and races off after him.

Olof can see her as she runs--how