"How far is it to your old hut?"
"Not far," said Olga.
Olga Lapp has someone to smile at surely, even if she will not smile at
me. Here she sits in the great forest, pandering to her vanity and sewing
wonderful scrolls on her jacket. On Sunday, no doubt, she will wear it to
church and meet the man whose eyes it is meant to gladden.
I was not anxious to stay any longer with these small beings, these human
grains of sand. As I had slept enough in the afternoon and the moon was
bright, I prepared to leave. After laying in a further supply of reindeer
cheese and whatever other food I could get, I left the hut. But what a
surprise: the bright moonlight was gone, and the sky was overcast; there
was no frost, only mild weather and wet woods. It was spring.
When Olga Lapp saw this, she advised me against leaving; but why should I
listen to her chatter? She came with me a little way into the woods to
direct me, then turned and went back, tiny and queer, her feathers ruffled
like a hen's.