“I steal goats and I steal the sheep,” she says quietly.  “And what do I do with them, I should like to know?  I don’t eat them up all by myself, I suppose?”

“You know best what you do with them.”

“Ho!  As if I didn’t have enough and to spare of meat and food and all, with what you give me, Isak, that I should have to steal more?  But I’ll say that, anyway, I’ve never needed so much, all these years.”

“Well, what have, you done with the sheep?  Has Os-Anders had it?”

“Os-Anders?” Oline has to set down the buckets and fold her hands.”  May I never have more guilt to answer for!  What’s all this about a ewe and lambs you’re talking of?  Is it the goat you mean, with the flat ears?”

“You creature!” said Isak, turning away.

“Well, if you’re not a miracle, Isak, I will say....  Here you’ve all you could wish for every sort, and a heavenly host of sheep and goats and all in your own shed, and you’ve not enough.  How should I know what sheep, and what two lambs, you’re trying to get out of me now?  You should be thanking the Lord for His mercies from generation to generation, that you should.  ’Tis but this summer and a bit of a way to next winter, and you’ve the lambing season once more, and three times as many again.”

Oh, that woman Oline!

Isak went off grumbling like a bear.  “Fool I was not to murder her the first day!” he thought, calling himself all manner of names.  “Idiot, lump of rubbish that I was!  But it’s not too late yet; just wait, let her go to the cowshed if she likes.  It wouldn’t be wise to do anything tonight, but tomorrow ... ay, tomorrow morning’s the time.  Three sheep lost and gone!  And coffee, did she say!”

Chapter X

Next day was fated to bring a great event.  There came a visitor to the farm—­Geissler came.  It was not yet summer on the moors, but Geissler paid no heed to the state of the ground; he came on foot, in rich high boots with broad, shiny tops; yellow gloves, too, he wore, and was elegant to see; a man from the village carried his things.

He had come, as a matter of fact, to buy a piece of Isak’s land, up in the hills—­a copper mine.  And what about the price?  Also, by the way, he had a message from Inger—­good girl, every one liked her; he had been in Trondhjem, and seen her.  “Isak, you’ve put in some work here.”

“Ay, I dare say And you’ve seen Inger?”

“What’s that you’ve got over there?  Built a mill of your own, have you? grind your own corn?  Excellent.  And you’ve turned up a good bit of ground since I was here last.”

“Is she well?”

“Eh?  Oh, your wife!—­yes, she’s well and fit.  Let’s go in the next room.  I’ll tell you all about it.”

“’Tis not in order,” put in Oline.  Oline had her own reasons for not wishing them to go in.  They went into the little room nevertheless, and closed the door.  Oline stood in the kitchen and could hear nothing.