Old Ossa came out to meet them, and Ørlygur turned to his son.
“The only one that is left,” he said, pointing to Ossa. “There are no more servants at Borg.”
“What do you mean?” queried Ormarr.
“It means that I have become such a hard master in my old age that I can neither keep old servants in my house nor get new to come.”
Later on he told Ormarr how the servants and farm hands had left with one accord, and how those he had befriended among his neighbours round had turned from him in his need. He said nothing, however, of his suspicions with regard to Ketill.
Ormarr thought for a moment, then turned to his father suddenly.
“There must be something behind all this,” he said.
Ørlygur nodded; he too was clear as to that, but what was at the bottom of it all, he could not say.
Ormarr seemed anxious to pass over the matter lightly for the present. “We must be able to get hands from somewhere,” he said easily. “And if our neighbours can do without us, I dare say we can manage without them.”