“H’m.  ’Tis a fine day and all.”

“I saw you down there all along,” said Inger.  “But I didn’t want to come crowding ashore with the rest.  So you’re down in the village today?”

“Ay, yes.  H’m.”

“And all’s well at home, everything all right?”

“Ay, thank you kindly.”

“This is Leopoldine; she’s stood the voyage much better than I did.  This is your papa, Leopoldine; come and shake hands nicely.”

“H’m,” said Isak, feeling very strange—­ay, he was like a stranger with them all at once.

Said Inger:  “If you find a sewing-machine down by the boat, it’ll be mine.  And there’s a chest as well.”

Off goes Isak, goes off more than willingly, after the chest; the men on board showed him which it was.  The sewing-machine was another matter; Inger had to go down and find that herself.  It was a handsome box, of curious shape, with a round cover over, and a handle to carry it by—­a sewing-machine in these parts!  Isak hoisted the chest and the sewing-machine on to his shoulders, and turned to his wife and child: 

“I’ll have these up in no time, and come back for her after.”

“Come back for who?” asked Inger, with a smile.  “Did you think she couldn’t walk by herself, a big girl like that?”

They walked up to where Isak had left the horse and cart.

“New horse, you’ve got?” said Inger.  “And what’s that you’ve got—­a cart with a seat in?”

“Tis but natural,” said Isak.  “What I was going to say:  Wouldn’t you care for a little bit of something to eat?  I’ve brought things all ready.”

“Wait till we get a bit on the way,” said she.  “Leopoldine, can you sit up by yourself?”

But her father won’t have it; she might fall down under the wheels.  “You sit up with her and drive yourself.”

So they drove off, Isak walking behind.

He looked at the two in the cart as he walked.  There was Inger, all strangely dressed and strange and fine to look at, with no hare-lip now, but only a tiny scar on the upper lip.  No hissing when she talked; she spoke all clearly, and that was the wonder of it all.  A grey-and-red woollen wrap with a fringe looked grand on her dark hair.  She turned round in her seat on the cart, and called to him: 

“It’s a pity you didn’t bring a skin rug with you; it’ll be cold, I doubt, for the child towards night.”

“She can have my jacket,” said Isak.  “And when we get up in the woods, I’ve left a rug there on the way.”

“Oh, have you a rug up in the woods?”

“Ay.  I wouldn’t bring it down all the way, for if you didn’t come today.”

“H’m.  What was it you said before—­the boys are well and all?”

“Ay, thank you kindly.”

“They’ll be big lads now, I doubt?”

“Ay, that’s true.  They’ve just been planting potatoes.”

“Oh!” said the mother, smiling, and shaking her head.  “Can they plant potatoes already?”