Haymaking still; Isak bringing in loads and masses of hay, for
woodland grass is not the same as meadow grass, more's the pity, but
poorer by far. It was only on rainy days now that he could spare time
for his building; 'twas a lengthy business, and even by August, when
all the hay was in, safely stored under the shelter of the rock, the
new house was still but half-way done. Then by September: "This won't
do," said Isak. "You'd better run down to the village and get a man to
help." Inger had been something poorly of late, and didn't run much
now, but all the same she got herself ready to go.

But Isak had changed his mind again; had put on his lordly manner
again, and said he would manage by himself. "No call to bother with
other folk," says he; "I can manage it alone."

"'Tis more than one man's work," says Inger. "You'll wear yourself
out."

"Just help me to hoist these up," says Isak, and that was all.

October came, and Inger had to give up. This was a hard blow, for the
roof-beams must be got up at any cost, and the place covered in before
the autumn rains; there was not a day to be lost. What could be wrong
with Inger? Not going to be ill? She would make cheese now and then
from the goats' milk, but beyond that she did little save shifting
Goldenhorns a dozen times a day where she grazed.

"Bring up a good-sized basket, or a box," she had said, "next time
you're down to the village."