ed for
that now. And he grew mightily proud of Inger all at once.

"Ay, Inger," says he. "She's one to manage things, that's true.
There's not her like nor equal to be found. 'Twas a poor place here
till I got a woman of my own, as you might say."

"Why, 'tis but natural so," says Oline.

And so this woman from across the hills, a soft-spoken creature with
her wits about her, and by name Oline, she stayed with them a couple
of days, and had the little room to sleep in. And, when she set out
for home, she had a bundle of wool that Inger had given her, from the
sheep. There was no call to hide that bundle of wool, but Oline took
care that Isak should not see it.

Then the child and Isak and his wife again; the same world again, and
the work of the day, with many little joys and big. Goldenhorns was
yielding well, the goats had dropped their kids and were yielding
well; Inger had a row of red and white cheeses already, stored away to
get ripe. It was her plan to save up cheeses till there were enough to
buy a loom. Oh, that Inger; she knew how to weave.

And Isak built a shed--he too had a plan of his own, no doubt. He set
up a new wing built out from the side of the turf hut, with double
panelling boards, made a doorway in it, and a neat little window with
four panes; laid on a roof of outer boards, and made do with that
till the ground thawed and he could get turf. All that was useful and
necessary; no flooring, no smooth-planed walls, but Isak had fixed up
a box partition, as for a horse, and a manger.

It was nearing the end of May. The sun had thawed the high ground;
Isak roofed in his shed with turf and it was finished. Then one
morning he ate a meal to last for the day, took some more food with
him, shouldered pick and spade, and went down to the village.

"Bring up three yards of cotton print, if you can," Inger called after
him.

"What do you want with that?" said Isak.

Isak was long away; it almost seemed as if he had gone for good. Inger
looked at the weather every day, noting the way of the wind, as if she
were expecting a sailing-ship; she went out at nighttime to listen;
even thought of taking the child on her arm and going after him. Then
at last he came back, with a horse and cart. "_Piro_!" shouted Isak as
he drew up; shouted so as to be heard. And the horse was well behaved,
and stood as quiet as could be, nodding at the turf hut as if it knew
the place again. Nevertheless, Isak must call out,