“We’ll see it’s no loss to you after.”

Why, as to that, she’d leave it to them....  “And you’re building again, I see.  Now what’ll that be for?  Isn’t there built enough?”

Inger sees her chance and puts in here:  “Why, you must ask him about that.  I’m not to know.”

“Building?” says Isak.  “Oh, ’tis nothing to speak of.  A bit of a shed, maybe, if we should need it.  What’s that you were saying about Goldenhorns?  You’d like to see her?”

They go across to the cowshed, and there’s cow and calf to show, and an ox to boot.  The visitor nods her head, looking at the beasts, and at the shed; all fine as could be, and clean as couldn’t be cleaner.  “Trust Inger for looking after creatures every way,” says Oline.

Isak puts a question:  “Goldenhorns was at your place before?”

“Ay, from a calf.  Not my place, though; at my son’s.  But ’tis all the same.  And we’ve her mother still.”

Isak had not heard better news a long while; it was a burden lighter.  Goldenhorns was his and Inger’s by honest right.  To tell the truth, he had half thought of getting rid of his trouble in a sorry way; to kill off the cow that autumn, scrape the hide, bury the horns, and thus make away with all trace of Cow Goldenhorns in this life.  No need for that now.  And he grew mightily proud of Inger all at once.

“Ay, Inger,” says he.  “She’s one to manage things, that’s true.  There’s not her like nor equal to be found.  ’Twas a poor place here till I got a woman of my own, as you might say.”

“Why, ’tis but natural so,” says Oline.

And so this woman from across the hills, a soft-spoken creature with her wits about her, and by name Oline, she stayed with them a couple of days, and had the little room to sleep in.  And, when she set out for home, she had a bundle of wool that Inger had given her, from the sheep.  There was no call to hide that bundle of wool, but Oline took care that Isak should not see it.

Then the child and Isak and his wife again; the same world again, and the work of the day, with many little joys and big.  Goldenhorns was yielding well, the goats had dropped their kids and were yielding well; Inger had a row of red and white cheeses already, stored away to get ripe.  It was her plan to save up cheeses till there were enough to buy a loom.  Oh, that Inger; she knew how to weave.

And Isak built a shed—­he too had a plan of his own, no doubt.  He set up a new wing built out from the side of the turf hut, with double panelling boards, made a doorway in it, and a neat little window with four panes; laid on a roof of outer boards, and made do with that till the ground thawed and he could get turf.  All that was useful and necessary; no flooring, no smooth-planed walls, but Isak had fixed up a box partition, as for a horse, and a manger.

It was nearing the end of May.  The sun had thawed the high ground; Isak roofed in his shed with turf and it was finished.  Then one morning he ate a meal to last for the day, took some more food with him, shouldered pick and spade, and went down to the village.