He laid the watch on the table and went out, without even saying good-bye.  The rest of the day he tramped the roads and bypaths.  A couple of peasants who had come from a distance to trade with him hung around outside the shop from noon till evening.  But no Tims Halvor appeared.

***

Elof Ersson, the husband of Karin Ingmarsson, was the son of a cruel and avaricious peasant, who had always treated him harshly.  As a child he had been half starved, and even after he was grown up his father kept him under his thumb.  He had to toil and slave from morning till night, and was never allowed any pleasures.  He was not even allowed to attend the country dances like other young folk, and he got no rest from his work even on Sundays.  Nor did Elof become his own master when he married.  He had to live at the Ingmar Farm and be under the domination of his father-in-law; and also at the Ingmar Farm hard work and frugality were the rule of the day.  As long as Ingmar Ingmarsson lived Elof seemed quite content with his lot, toiling and slaving with never so much as a complaint.  Folks used to say that now the Ingmarssons had got a son-in-law after their own hearts, for Elof Ersson did not know that there was anything else in life than just toil and drudgery.

But as soon as Big Ingmar was dead and buried, Elof began to drink and carouse.  He made the acquaintance of all the rounders in the parish, and invited them down to the Farm, and went with them to dance halls and taverns.  He quit work altogether, and drank himself full every day.  In the space of two short months he became a poor drunken wretch.

The first time Karin saw him in a state of intoxication she was horrified.  “This is God’s judgment upon me for my treatment of Halvor,” was the thought that came to her.  To the husband she said very little in the way of rebuke or warning.  She soon perceived that he was like a blasted tree, doomed to wither and decay, and she could not hope for either help or protection from him.

But Karin’s sisters were not so wise as she was.  They resented his escapades, blushed at his ribald songs and coarse jokes, by turns threatening and admonishing him.  And although their brother-in-law was on the whole rather good-natured, he sometimes got into a rage and had words with them.  Then Karin’s only thought was how she should get her sisters away from the house, that they might escape the misery in which she herself had to live.  In the course of the summer she managed to marry off the two older girls, and the two younger ones she sent to America, where they had relatives who were well-to-do.

All the sisters received their proportion of the inheritance, which amounted to twenty thousand kroner each.  The farm had been left to Karin, with the understanding that young Ingmar was to take it over when he became of age.

It seemed remarkable that Karin, who was so awkward and diffident, should have been able to send so many birds from the nest, find mates for them, and homes.  She arranged it all herself, for she could get no help whatever from her husband, who had now become utterly worthless.