“Chreestmas — so.”

“And what will you do?”

“I will go to London, or to Paris. Ah, Paris! — Or get married!” She laughed into the father’s eyes.

The father laughed heartily.

“Get married, eh? And who to?”

“I don’t know. I am going away.”

“The country’s too quiet for you?” asked the father.

“Too quiet — hm!” she nodded in assent.

“You wouldn’t care for making butter and cheese?”

“Making butter — hm!” She turned to him with a glad, bright gesture.