Fredrik talks of Breidablik, how 'tis but little he's got done there yet awhile.
"Nay," says Isak, "'tis none so little already, I saw when I was down that way."
This was praise from the oldest among them, the giant himself, and Fredrik might well be pleased. He asks frankly enough: "Did you think so, now? Well, it'll be better before long. I've had a deal of things to hinder this year; the house to do up, being leaky and like to fall to pieces; hayloft to take down and put up again, and no sort of room in the turf hut for beasts, seeing I'd cow and heifer more than Brede he'd ever had in his time," says Fredrik proudly.
"And you're thriving like, up here?" asks Isak.
"Ay, I'll not say no. And wife, she's thriving too, why shouldn't we? There's good room and outlook all about; we can see up and down the road both ways. And a neat little copse by the house all pretty to look at, birch and willow—I'll plant a bit more other side of the house when I've time. And it's fine to see how the bogland's dried only since last year's ditching—'tis all a question now what'll grow on her this year. Ay, thrive? When we've house and home and land and all—'tis enough for the two of us surely."
"Ho," says Sivert slyly, "and the two of you—is that all there's ever to be?"
"Why, as to that," says Fredrik bravely, "'tis like enough there'll be more to come. And as to thriving—well, the wife's not falling off anyway, by the looks of her."
They work on until evening, drawing up now and again to straighten their backs, and exchange a word or so.
"And so you didn't get the tobacco?" says Sivert.
"No, that's true. But 'twas no loss, for I've no use for it, anyway," says Fredrik.