And that was true enough; but he was
spending overmuch. They village folk never paid their owings, and yet
even a fellow like Brede Olsen could come up to Storborg that winter
and get cotton print and coffee and molasses and paraffin on credit.
Isak has laid out a deal of money already for Eleseus, and his store
and his long journeyings about; there's not overmuch left now out of
the riches from the mine--and what then?
"How d'you think he's getting on, Eleseus?" asks Isak suddenly.
"Getting on?" says Sivert, to gain time.
"Doesn't seem to be doing so well."
"H'm. He says it'll go all right."
"You spoken to him about it?"
"Nay; but Andresen he says so."
Isak thought over this, and shook his head. "Nay, I doubt it's going
ill," says he. "Tis a pity for the lad."
And Isak gloomier than ever now, for all he'd been none too bright
before.
But then Sivert flashes out a bit of news: "There's more folk coming
to live now."
"How d'you say?"
"Two new holdings. They've bought up close by us."
Isak stands still with his crowbar in hand; this was news, and good
news, the best that could be.
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