here, to lie in the heather, with an arm for a pillow.

Fredrik talks of Breidablik, how 'tis but little he's got done there
yet awhile.

"Nay," says Isak, "'tis none so little already, I saw when I was down
that way."

This was praise from the oldest among them, the giant himself, and
Fredrik might well be pleased. He asks frankly enough: "Did you think
so, now? Well, it'll be better before long. I've had a deal of things
to hinder this year; the house to do up, being leaky and like to fall
to pieces; hayloft to take down and put up again, and no sort of room
in the turf hut for beasts, seeing I'd cow and heifer more than Brede
he'd ever had in his time," says Fredrik proudly.

"And you're thriving like, up here?" asks Isak.

"Ay, I'll not say no. And wife, she's thriving too, why shouldn't we?
There's good room and outlook all about; we can see up and down the
road both ways. And a neat little copse by the house all pretty to
look at, birch and willow--I'll plant a bit more other side of the
house when I've time. And it's fine to see how the bogland's dried
only since last year's ditching--'tis all a question now what'll grow
on her this year. Ay, thrive? When we've house and home and land and
all--'tis enough for the two of us surely."

"Ho," says Sivert slyly, "and the two of you--is that all there's ever
to be?"

"Why, as to that," says Fredrik bravely, "'tis like enough there'll
be more to come. And as to thriving--well, the wife's not falling off
anyway, by the looks of her."

They work on until evening, drawing up now and again to straighten
their backs, and exchange a word or so.

"And so you didn't get the tobacco?" says Sivert.

"No, that's true. But 'twas no loss, for I've no use for it, anyway,"
says Fredrik.

"No use for tobacco?"

"Nay. 'Twas but for to drop in at Aronsen's like, and hear what he'd
got to say." And the two jesters laughed together at that.

On the way home, father and son talk little, as was their way; but
Isak must have been thinking out something for himself; he says:

"Sivert?"

"Ay?" says Sivert again.

"Nay, 'twas nothing."

They walk on a good ways, and Isak begins again:

"How's he get on, then, with his trading, Aronsen, when he's nothing
to trade with?"

"Nay," says Sivert. "But there's not folk enough here now for him to
buy for."

"Ho, you think so? Why, I suppose 'tis so, ay, well...."

Sivert wondered a little at this. After a while his father wen