Isak worked and toiled, dug ditches and broke new ground, set up his
boundary lines between his land and the State's, and gained another
season's stock of timber. But now that Inger was no longer there to
wonder at his doings, he worked more from habit than for any joy in
what he did. And he had let two sessions pass without having his
title-deeds registered, caring little about it; at last, that autumn,
he had pulled himself together and got it done. Things were not as
they should be with Isak now. Quiet and patient as ever--yes, but now
it was because he did not care. He got out hides because it had to be
done--goatskins and calfskins--steeped them in the river, laid them
in bark, and tanned them after a fashion ready for shoes. In the
winter--at the very first threshing--he set aside his seed corn for
the next spring, in order to have it done; best to have things done
and done with; he was a methodical man. But it was a grey and lonely
life; eyah, _Herregud_! a man without a wife again, and all the
rest....

What pleasure was there now in sitting at home Sundays, cleanly
washed, with a neat red shirt on, when there was no one to be clean
and neat for! Sundays were the longest days of all, days when he was
forced to idleness and weary thoughts; nothing to do but wander about
over the place, counting up all that should have been done. He always
took the children with him, always carried one on his arm. It was
a distraction to hear their chatter, and answer their questions of
everything.

He kept old Oline because there was no one else he could get. And
Oline was, after all, of use in a way. Carding and spinning, knitting
stockings and mittens, and making cheese--she could do all these
things, but she lacked Inger's happy touch, and had no heart in her