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Updated: June 16, 2025
It is the autumn season now, a silence in the woods all round; the hills are there, the sun is there, and at evening the moon and the stars will come; all regular and certain, full of kindliness, an embrace. Men have time to rest 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.
A couple of days later both agreed they had enough stone now for the walls. It was Friday evening; they sat taking a breathing-space, and talking together the while. "H'm what d'you say?" said the father. "Should we think it over, maybe, about Breidablik?" "How d'you mean?" asked the son. "What to do with it?" "Why, I don't know. There's the school there, and it's midway down this tract now."
They were both equally astonished. Not that Inger was past the age, of course; to Isak's mind, she was not too old in any way. But still, another child ... well, well.... And little Leopoldine going to school several times a year down at Breidablik that left them with no little ones about the place now besides which, Leopoldine herself was grown up now.
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