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ing such a flock of children as we have? You haven't gone and squandered the money we got for Skjalda? asked Groa, looking harder still at her husband.
Don't be foolish, woman! The money lies untouched at the factor's. But he wouldn't pay much for the meat and hide of Skjalda, not anywhere near enough to buy a good milking cow. He said the English on the trawlers don't set much store by cow's meat. The summer has been only so-so, and I'm sure we'll have plenty of uses for what money I've been able to scrape together. Of course, a cow is a good thing to buy, an enjoyable luxury, if only you have plenty of money.
If you can't scrape together the money for a cow, we must cut expenses somehow. Perhaps you could stop stuffing your nostrils with that dirty snuff? And you ought at any rate to be able to sell that fancy fox skin you play with so childishly.
Is that so!
Yes, you play with that wretched fox skin just exactly like any crazy youngster.
Wretched is it? Take care what you say, woman! Wretched skin! A fine judge of such matters you are!--And standing up, Arni paced the kitchen floor.--An eighty-crown skin! And you call it wretched! Jon of Lon didn't call it any names. You'll believe at least what he says.
Now, don't get puffed up. You ought to be thankful to get what you can for the skin. It will help in buying the cow.
The cow? Let me tell you, woman, that I am not going to buy a cow for the skin. You can take it from me that you will never get a cow for that skin. Or anything else, in fact. The farmer at Lon can shell out whatever is needed for buying the cow. That's the least he can do for you.
Groa stopped her washing, stared for a few seconds at Arni, and then with a quick movement walked up to him, brandishing a bit of wet linen.
Will you tell me what you're going to do with the skin? she asked, almost in a whisper.
Arni shrank back. The way to the door was cut off. He raised his arm in self-defence and retreated as far as possible into