Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 12, 2025
Winter came, Inger carding and spinning, Isak driving down with loads of wood; fine dry wood and good going; all his debts paid off and settled; horse and cart, plough and harrow his very own.
When Isak spoke of dung, and was rough in his speech, as peasants are, Inger would call it manure, "for the sake of the children, you know." She was careful with the children, and taught them everything, educated them.
And she had none. "And now," said the Lensmand, "this business about Sellanraa. At last I am in a position to settle it definitely. The Department is graciously pleased to approve the sale of the land, more or less according to the terms I suggested." "H'm," said Isak. "It has been a lengthy business, but I have the satisfaction of knowing that my endeavours have not been altogether fruitless.
Isak sowed more corn this year than last, and did all he could to get it nicely down. He made beds for carrots and turnips, and Inger sowed the seeds. All went on as before. Inger went about for some time with a bag of hay under her dress, to hide any change in her figure, taking out a little from time to time, and finally discarding the bag altogether.
"I must have a bit of talk with them about things." Isak did not go out at once to see her off, but waited quite a while. And when at last he shambled out, looking never the least bit anxious, never the least bit miserable and full of fear, Inger was all but vanished already through the fringe of the forest. "Hem!" He cleared his throat, and called, "Will you be coming back maybe?"
Coming nearer, he does not know them all; there are some from other villages, but Brede is fussing about, in his best finery, and chattering in his old way. "Goddag, Isak. So you're doing me the honour to come and see my auction sale. Thanks, thanks. Ay, we've been neighbours and friends these many years now, and never an ill word between us." Brede grows pathetic.
And Isak goes off again not very far, only to the farther fields, but still, he goes off. He is full of mysteries, and must hide himself out of the way. The fact is this: he had brought back a third piece of news from the village today, and that was something more than the rest, something enormous; and he had hidden it at the edge of the wood.
Isak himself had barely time to eat and sleep; it was a close thing to get through the season's work now, with all the land he had brought under tillage. Then, between seasons, he got his sawmill roofed in, and could set to work putting up the machine parts. And look you, 'twas no marvel of fine woodwork he had set up, but strong it was, as a giant of the hills, and stood there to good use.
Everything was different now. In the old days he would answer simply "Ay," or say nothing at all, and go on working for a bit before he came. Now, he said "Thanks," and went in at once. Love makes the wise a fool: now and then Isak would say "Thanks, thanks." Ay, all was different now maybe a trifle too fine in some ways.
Oline hastens to make peace. "Inger, Lord bless you, child, don't speak of such a thing. Not a word of cream nor custard either an old creature like me that does but idle about from house to neighbour...!" Isak sits for a while, then up, and saying suddenly: "Here am I doing nothing middle of the day, and stones to fetch and carry for that wall of mine!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking