" sobbed Inger, "there at the back of her
head...."

And again no more was said.

Time went on as before. Inger was not locked up; the law was merciful.
Lensmand Heyerdahl asked her questions just as he might have spoken to
any one, and only said, "It's a great pity such things should happen
at all." Inger asked who had informed against her, but the Lensmand
answered that it was no one in particular; many had spoken of the
matter, and he had heard of it from several quarters. Had she not
herself said something about it to some Lapps?

Inger--ay, she had told some Lapps about Os-Anders, how he came and
brought a hare that summer, and gave her unborn child the hare-lip.
And wasn't it Oline who had sent the hare?--The Lensmand knew nothing
about that. But in any case, he could not think of putting down such
ignorant superstition in his report.

"But my mother saw a hare just before I was born," said Inger....

The barn was finished; a great big place it was, with hay-stalls on
both sides and a threshing-floor in the middle. The shed and the other
makeshift places were emptied now, and all the hay brought into the
barn; the corn was reaped, dried in stacks, and carted in. Inger
took up the carrots and turnips. All their crops were in now. And
everything might have been well with them--they had all they needed.
Isak had started on new ground again, before the frost came, to make a
bigger cornfield; Isak was a tiller of the soil. But in November Inger
said one day, "She would have been six months old now, and known us
all."

"'Tis no good talking of that now," said Isak.

When the winter came, Isak threshed his corn on the new
threshing-floor, and Inger helped him often, with an arm as quick to
the work as his own, while the children played in the haystalls at the
side. It was fine plump grain. Early in the new year the roads were
good, and Isak started carting down his loads of wood to the village;
he had his regular customers now, and the summer-dried wood fetched a
good price. One day he and Inger agreed that they should take the fine
bull-calf from Goldenhorns and drive it down to Fru Geissler, with
a cheese into the bargain. She was delighted, and asked how much it
cost.

"Nothing," said Isak. "The Lensmand paid for it before."

"Heaven bless him, and did he?" said Fru Geissler, touched at the
thought. She sent things up for Eleseus and Sivert in return--cakes
and picture-books and toys. When Isak came back a