e of them; and
this was owing not a little to the fact that, besides all her other
work, she had so much to do in the cow house.

Crookhorn had become, as it were, Lisbeth's cow, and consequently had
to be taken care of by her. Bliros showed very plainly that she would
not like at all to have Randi's attentions bestowed upon a rascally
goat. That would make it seem as if the goat were fully as important a
person in the cow house as Bliros herself; whereas the whole cow house,
in reality, belonged to her, and that other creature was only allowed
there as a favor.

So Lisbeth took care of Crookhorn exactly as she saw her mother take
care of Bliros. In fact, before long she had more to do in the cow
house than her mother had; for she soon learned to milk Crookhorn,
while Bliros, her mother's cow, could not then be milked.

And Crookhorn gave so much milk! Three times a day Lisbeth had to milk
her. There was no longer any scarcity of cream for coffee or milk for
porridge. Indeed, there was even cream enough to make waffles with now
and then.

Springtime came. It always came early up at Peerout Castle. The slopes
of heather, directly facing the sun, were the first in the whole valley
to peep up out of the snow. As soon as the heathery spots began to show
themselves, Lisbeth was out on them, stepping here and there with a
cautious foot. It seemed so wonderful to step on bare earth again
instead of snow! Day by day she kept track of the different green
patches, watching them grow larger and larger, and seeing how the snow
glided slowly farther and farther downward,--exactly as her own frock
did when she loosened the band and let it slip down and lie in a ring
around her feet. When the snow had slipped as far down as the big stone
where she and Jacob used to have their cow house (using pine cones for
cows and sheep), the outermost buds on the trees would swell and be
ready to burst,--she knew that from the year before; and when the buds
had really opened (she kept close watch of them every day now), then,
_then_ would come the great day when Crookhorn could be let out.
Lisbeth's mother had said so.

That great day was what she was waiting for, not only because it would
be so pleasant for Crookhorn to be out, but because no food was equal
to the first buds of spring for making goats yield rich milk.

Lisbeth's mother had been far from well ever since the day that Lisbeth
went over to Hoel Farm for the first time. But Lisb