That business of the saw was always in his thoughts; it was as he had said.  Last winter, when the roads were hard, he had carted up the big circular blade and the fittings, ordered from Trondhjem through the village store.  The parts were lying in one of the sheds now, well smeared with oil to keep off the rust.  He had brought up some of the beams too, for the framework; he could begin building when he pleased, but he put it off.  What could it be? was he beginning to grow slack, was he wearing out?  He could not understand it himself.  It would have been no surprise to others, perhaps, but Isak could not believe it.  Was his head going?  He had never been afraid of taking up a piece of work before; he must have changed somehow, since the time when he had built his mill across a river just as big.  He could get in help from the village, but he would try again alone; he would start in a day or so—­and Inger could lend him a hand.

He spoke to Inger about it.

“Hm.  I don’t know if you could find time one of these days to lend a hand with that sawmill?”

Inger thought for a moment.  “Ye—­s, if I can manage it.  So you’re going to set up a sawmill?”

“Ay, ’tis my intention so.  I’ve worked it all out in my head.”

“Will that be harder than the mill was?”

“Much harder, ten times as hard.  Why, it’s all got to be as close and exact—­down to the tiniest line, and the saw itself exactly midways.”

“If only you can manage it,” said Inger thoughtlessly.

Isak was offended, and answered, “As to that, we shall see.”

“Couldn’t you get a man to help you, some one that knows the work?”

“No.”

“Well, then, you won’t be able to manage it,” said she again.

Isak put up his hand to his hair—­it was like a bear lifting his paw.

“’Twas just that I’ve been fearing,” said he.  “That I might not manage it.  And that’s why I wanted you that’s learned so much to help me.”

That was one to the bear.  But nothing gained after all.  Inger tossed her head and turned aside unkindly, and would have nothing to do with his saw.

“Well, then—­” said Isak.

“Why, do you want me to stand getting drenched in the river and have me laid up?  And who’s to do all the sewing, and look to the animals and keep house, and all the rest?”

“No, that’s true,” said Isak.

Oh, but it was only the four corner posts and the middle ones for the two long sides he wanted help with, that was all.  Inger—­was she really grown so different in her heart through living among folk from the towns?

The fact was that Inger had changed a good deal; she thought now less of their common good than of herself.  She had taken loom and wheel into use again, but the sewing machine was more to her taste; and when the pressing-iron came up from the blacksmith’s, she was ready to set up as a fully-trained dressmaker.  She had a profession now.  She began by making a couple of little frocks for Leopoldine.  Isak thought them pretty, and praised them, maybe, a thought too much; Inger hinted that it was nothing to what she could do when she tried.