s. Born in Trondhjem, was
Leopoldine, and came to Sellanraa five years old. But the memory of
a great town with many people and of a long voyage on a steamer is
slipping away from her now, growing more and more distant; she is a
child of the wilds and knows nothing now of the great world beyond the
village down below where she has been to church once or twice, and
where she was confirmed the year before....

And the little casual work of every day goes on, with this thing and
that to be done beside; as, for instance, the road down below, that is
getting bad one or two places. The ground is still workable, and Isak
goes down one day with Sivert, ditching and draining the road. There
are two patches of bog to be drained.

Axel Stroem has promised to take part in the work, seeing that he has a
horse and uses the road himself--but Axel had pressing business in the
town just then. Heaven knows what it could be, but very pressing, he
said it was. But he had asked his brother from Breidablik to work with
them in his stead.

Fredrik was this brother's name. A young man, newly married, a
light-hearted fellow who could make a jest, but none the worse for
that; Sivert and he are something alike. Now Fredrik had looked in at
Storborg on his way up that morning, Aronsen of Storborg being his
nearest neighbour, and he is full of all the trader has been telling
him. It began this way; Fredrik wanted a roll of tobacco. "I'll give
you a roll of tobacco when I have one," said Aronsen.

"What, you've no tobacco in the place?"

"No, nor won't order any. There's nobody to buy it. What d'you think I
make out of one roll of tobacco?"

Ay, Aronsen had been in a nasty humour that morning, sure enough; felt
he had been cheated somehow by that Swedish mining concern. Here had
he set up a store out in the wilds, and then they go and shut down the
work altogether!

Fredrik smiles slyly at Aronsen, and makes fun of him now. "He's not
so much as touched that land of his," says he, "and hasn't even feed
for his beasts, but must go and buy it. Asked me if I'd any hay to
sell. No, I'd no hay to sell. 'Ho, d'you mean you don't want to make
money?' said Aronsen. Thinks money's everything in the world, seems
like. Puts down a hundred-_Krone_ note on the counter, and says
'Money!' 'Ay, money's well enough,' says I. 'Cash down,' says he. Ay,
he's just a little bit touched that way, so to speak, and his wife she
goes about with a watch and chain and