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That evening when Ormarr had driven the sheep into the fold, he saw his father coming slowly towards him, and realized that Ørlygur wished to speak to him.

The two sat down on the grassy wall of the paddock.

“Bjarni Jonsson has been up to buy the wool.”

Ørlygur spoke without any sign of triumph in his voice, and Ormarr evinced no excitement at the information. To both it seemed only natural and inevitable that the matter should have ended thus.

“Sera Daniel came with him.”

After this there was a pause. Then Ørlygur looked his son in the eyes. “Ormarr,” he went on, “I have something important to say to you. You are growing up now, and we must think of your future. Not yours alone, but that of your brother and the estate as well. In short, it concerns Borg. Have you any wish to take over the management of the place?”

“I don’t know....” Ormarr gazed thoughtfully before him.

“Well, I will tell you what I have been thinking of today. Sera Daniel tells me that there are men in foreign countries whose whole work in life consists in playing the violin. You understand, of course, that first of all they must learn to master it thoroughly. They are taught at schools, or by private teachers. Would you care to do the same—to learn to play properly—rules and notes and everything?”