[Subsection]

One Sunday there was something Olav wanted to say before they parted. He seemed to have to struggle to get the words out.

"Åsne's going to stay with us at Bringa this year. For the haying."

Per said, "Oh, is she?"

"Yes. She's coming tomorrow."

"Is she going to stay after the haying?"

"Yes, I expect so."

"Is she going to stay for the winter too?"

"Yes."

They each went their own way.

Olav had told Per as if confessing a crime, and Per almost felt it as a crime, a sin.

He watched Olav walking away between the bushes. A lump came into his throat. Olav would not come to meet him any more.

It was unbelievable, but that's how it was: Olav won't come any more.

He felt a sharp, stinging pain, as if he had breathed in smoke. Tomorrow they would start mowing the thin grass that was left on the scorched meadow at Bringa. They would be starting at Bufast too. Ivar would be coming to Bufast. Åsne Bakken would be coming to Bringa.

Olav was lost. There, he had gone!