d little
sister they had never seen. But father--they didn't know him at all
till he came quite close. He had cut off his heavy beard.

Chapter XII

All is well now.

Isak sows his oats, harrows, and rolls it in. Little Leopoldine comes
and wants to sit on the roller. Sit on a roller?--nay, she's all too
little and unknowing for that yet. Her brothers know better. There's
no seat on father's roller.

But father thinks it fine and a pleasure to see little Leopoldine
coming up so trustingly to him already; he talks to her, and shows
her how to walk nicely over the fields, and not get her shoes full of
earth.

"And what's that--why, if you haven't a blue frock on today--come, let
me see; ay, 'tis blue, so it is. And a belt round and all. Remember
when you came on the big ship? And the engines--did you see them?
That's right--and now run home to the boys again, they'll find you
something to play with."

Oline is gone, and Inger has taken up her old work once more, in house
and yard. She overdoes it a little, maybe, in cleanliness and order,
just by way of showing that she was going to have things differently
now. And indeed it was wonderful to see what a change was made; even
the glass windows in the old turf hut were cleaned, and the boxes
swept out.

But it was only the first days, the first week; after that she began
to be less eager about the work. There was really no need to take all
that trouble about cowsheds and things; she could make better use of
her time now. Inger had learned a deal among the town folk, and
it would be a pity not to turn it to account. She took to her
spinning-wheel and loom again--true enough, she was even quicker and
neater than before--a trifle too quick--_hui_!--especially when Isak
was looking on; he couldn't make out how any one could learn to use
their fingers that way--the fine long fingers she had to her big
hands. But Inger had a way of dropping one piece of work to take up
another, all in a moment. Well, well, there were more things to be
looked to now than before, and maybe she was not altogether so patient
as she had been; a trifle of unrest had managed to creep in.

First of all there were the flowers she had brought with her--bulbs
and cuttings; little lives these too, that must be thought of. The
glass window was too small, the ledge too narrow to set flower-pots
on; and besides, she had no flower-pots. Isak must make some tiny
boxes for begonias, fuchsias, an