Girls and women came up continually to Sellanraa to have a piece of work cut out, or a long hem put through the machine in a moment, and Inger entertained them well.  Oline too came again, couldn’t help it, belike; came both spring and autumn; fair-spoken, soft as butter, and thoroughly false.  “Just looked along to see how things are with you,” she said each time.  “And I’ve been longing so for a sight of the lads, I’m that fond of them, the little angels they were.  Ay, they’re big fellows now, but it’s strange ...  I can’t forget the time when they were small and I had them in my care.  And here’s you building and building again, and making a whole town of the place.  Going to have a bell to ring, maybe, at the roof of the barn, same as at the parsonage?”

Once Oline came and brought another woman with her, and the pair of them and Inger had a nice day together.  The more Inger had sitting round her, the better she worked at her sewing and cutting out, making a show of it, waving her scissors and swinging the iron.  It reminded her of the place where she had learned it all—­there was always many of them in the workrooms there.  Inger made no secret of where she had got her knowledge and all her art from; it was from Trondhjem.  It almost appeared as if she had not been in prison at all, in the ordinary way, but at school, in an institute, where one could learn to sew and weave and write, and do dressing and dyeing—­all that she had learned in Trondhjem.  She spoke of the place as of a home; there were so many people she knew there, superintendents and forewomen and attendants, it had been dull and empty to come back here again, and hard to find herself altogether cut off from the life and society she had been accustomed to.  She even made some show of having a cold—­couldn’t stand the keen air there; for years after her return she had been too poorly to work out of doors in all seasons.  It was for the outside work she really ought to have a servant.

“Ay, Heaven save us,” said Oline, “and why shouldn’t you have a servant indeed, when you’ve means and learning and a great fine house and all!”

It was pleasant to meet with sympathy, and Inger did not deny it.  She worked away at her machine till the place shook, and the ring on her finger shone.

“There, you can see for yourself,” said Oline to the woman with her.  “It’s true what I said, Inger she wears a gold ring on her finger.”

“Would you like to see it?” asked Inger, taking it off.

Oline seemed still to have her doubts; she turned it in her fingers as a monkey with a nut, looked at the mark.  “Ay, ’tis as I say; Inger with all her means and riches.”

The other woman took the ring with veneration, and smiled humbly.  “You can put it on for a bit if you like,” said Inger.  “Don’t be afraid, it won’t break.”