They had several children, but the only one whose history concerns us
is the eldest son, Endrid, who was to inherit the farm and carry on
the honour of the house. He had all the good looks of his race, but
not much in the way of brains, as is often the case with children of
specially active-minded parents. His father soon observed this, and
tried to make up for it by giving him a very good education. A tutor
was brought into the house for the children, and when Endrid grew up
he was sent to one of the agricultural training schools that were now
beginning to flourish in Norway, and after that to finish off in town.
He came home again a quiet young fellow, with a rather over-burdened
brain and fewer town ways than his father had hoped for. But Endrid
was a slow-witted youth.

The Pastor and the Captain, both with large families of daughters, had
their eye on him. But if this was the reason of the increased
attention they paid to Knut, they made a great mistake; the idea of a
marriage between his son and a poor pastor's or captain's daughter,
with no training to fit her for a rich farmer's wife, was so
ridiculous to him that he did not even think it necessary to warn
Endrid. And indeed no warning was needed, for the lad saw as well as
his father that, though there was no need for his bringing more wealth
into the family through his marriage, it would be of advantage if he
could again connect it with one of equal birth and position. But, as
ill-luck would have it, he was but an awkward wooer. The worst of it
was that he began to get the name of being a fortune-hunter; and when
once a young man gets this reputation, the peasants fight shy of him.
Endrid soon noticed this himself; for though he was not particularly
quick, to make up for it he was very sensitive. He saw that it did not
improve his position that he was dressed like a townsman, and "had