after the men when they went. Isak stood there in the middle of the
room, and Oline was sitting by the stove. Isak cleared his throat
once or twice, just to show that he was ready to say something if he
pleased. But he said nothing. That was his strength of soul. What,
did he not know the number of his goats as he knew the fingers on his
hands--was the woman mad? Could one of the beasts be missing, when he
knew every one of them personally and talked to them every day--his
goats that were sixteen in number? Oline must have traded away one of
them the day before, when the woman from Breidablik had come up to
look at the place. "H'm," said Isak, and this time words were on
the very tip of his tongue. What was it Oline had done? Not exactly
murder, perhaps, but something not far from it. He could speak in
deadly earnest of that sixteenth goat.

But he could not stand there for ever, in the middle of the room,
saying nothing. "H'm," he said. "Ho! So there's but fifteen goats
there now, you say?"

"That's all I make it," answered Oline gently. "But you'd better count
for yourself and see."

Now was his time--he could do it now: reach out with his hands and
alter the shape of Oline considerably, with but one good grip. He
could do it. He did not do it, but said boldly, making for the door:
"I'll say no more just now." And he went out, as if plainly showing
that, next time, he would have proper words to say, never fear.

"Eleseus!" he called out.

Where was Eleseus, where were the children? Their father had something