can see is, he's doing a good day's work down there."

"Ay, maybe," said Inger submissively.

"And I can't see what you've got to find fault with the lad," cried
Isak, evidently displeased. "He does his work better and better every
day, and what can you ask more?"

Inger murmured: "Ay, but he's not like he used to be. You try talking
to him about waistcoats."

"About waistcoats? What d'you mean?"

"How he used to wear white waistcoats in summer when he was in town,
so he says."

Isak pondered this a while; it was beyond him. "Well, can't he have a
white waistcoat?" he said. Isak was out of his depth here; of course
it was only women's nonsense; to his mind, the boy had a perfect right
to a white waistcoat, if it pleased him; anyhow, he couldn't see what
there was to make a fuss about, and was inclined to put the matter
aside and go on.

"Well, what do you think, if he had Brede's bit of land to work on?"

"Who?" said Inger.

"Him Eleseus."

"Breidablik? Nay, 'tis more than's worth your while."