With a sigh she slipped from his arms, pressed his hand once more, and turned away. Then quietly Ørlygur left the room.
He went out of the house without taking leave of the widow. The latter, returning a little later to the room, asked if he had gone.
Bagga turned her face away. “Yes,” she whispered.
The girl burst into tears. “Yes, mother.”
The widow took her daughter in her arms. “God’s blessing, my child. No need to be sorry for that. By the look of him, he is not one to change.”
Guest the One-eyed felt both ill and tired when, after bidding farewell to Bagga, he limped up towards the farm.
An old man, evidently the master of the place, was busy with some men thatching a hayrick with slabs of turf. The turf lay rolled up and set in piles about on the ground, a couple of hundred rolls, perhaps, in all. It had been a laborious task to cut the pieces thin and even at the edge; the strips were about ten feet long. Two men were busy on the stack, preparing it for the roof, the highest point carefully set so as to give an even slope on all sides. Others were lifting the rolls, taking great care to avoid a break. The farmer himself did but little of the work, being chiefly occupied with looking on and giving orders.
The arrival of a stranger caused a momentary pause in the work. Those on the ground gathered round him, and the two men on the stack leaned over to see.
“A beggar,” answered the newcomer, seating himself on one of the rolls of turf.
“I thought as much,” grumbled the man. “Can’t you sit on the ground, instead of spoiling my turf?” And, turning angrily to the men, he shouted:
“Well, what is there to stare at? Get to your work.”
Guest the One-eyed sat down, and for a while was left to himself. A dog came trotting up, sniffed at him, and curled up dog-fashion at his feet, apparently satisfied of being in decent company.
At length the farmer turned to him again.
“Well, old Greybeard, what news from anywhere?”
“I daresay. All you think of is the meals you get—in other folks’ kitchens.”
“There’s many things a man can think of. Will you give me shelter for the night?”
“I’ve no beds for lazy vagabonds. But you can sleep in the barn if you like, though I warn you it’s draughty. I take it you can do some tricks or tell a story or something in return?”