And now it was not long before Inger began to have visitors.  One or two women came across from the other side of the hills, out of curiosity.  Oline had perhaps chanced to say something against her will, to this one or that.  Those who came now brought news from Inger’s own birthplace; what more natural than that Inger should give them a cup of coffee, and let them look at her sewing-machine!  Young girls came up in pairs from the coast, from the village, to ask Inger’s advice; it was autumn now, and they had been saving up for a new dress, and wanted her to help them.  Inger, of course, would know all about the latest fashions, after being out in the world, and now and again she would do a little cutting out.  Inger herself brightened up at these visits, and was glad; kindly and helpful she was too, and clever at the work, besides; she could cut out material without a pattern.  Sometimes she would even hem a whole length on her machine, and all for nothing, and give the stuff back to the girls with a delightful jest:  “There—­now you can sew the buttons on yourself!”

Later in the year Inger was sent for down to the village, to do dressmaking for some of the great folks there.  Inger could not go; she had a household to look after, and animals besides, all the work of the home, and she had no servant.

Had no what?  Servant!

She spoke to Isak one day.

“If only I had some one to help me, I could put in more time sewing.”

Isak did not understand.  “Help?”

“Yes, help in the house—­a servant-girl.”

Isak must have been taken aback at this; he laughed a little in his iron beard, and took it as a jest.  “Ay, we should have a servant-girl,” said he.

“Housewives in the towns always have a servant,” said Inger.

“Ho!” said Isak.

Well, Isak was not perhaps in the best of humour just then, not exactly gentle and content, no, for he had started work on that sawmill, and it was a slow and toilsome business; he couldn’t hold the baulks with one hand, and a level in the other, and fix ends at the same time.  But when the boys came back from school again it was easier; the lads were useful and a help, bless them!  Sivert especially had a genius for knocking in nails, but Eleseus was better at handling a plumb-line.  By the end of a week, Isak and the boys had actually got the foundation posts in, and soundly fixed with stretcher pieces as thick as the beams themselves.

It worked out all right—­everything worked out all right somehow.  But Isak was beginning to feel tired in the evenings now—­whatever it could be.  It was not only building a sawmill and getting that done—­there was everything else besides.  The hay was in, but the corn was standing yet, soon it would have to be cut and stacked:  there were the potatoes too, they would have to be taken up before long.  But the boys were a wonderful help.  He did not thank them; ’twas not the way among folk of their sort, but he was mightily pleased with them for all that.  Now and again they would sit down in the middle of their work and talk together, the father almost asking his sons’ advice as to what they should do next.  Those were proud moments for the lads, they learned also to think well before they spoke, lest they should be in the wrong.