He had come, as a matter of fact, to buy a piece of Isak's land, up in the hills—a copper mine. And what about the price? Also, by the way, he had a message from Inger—good girl, every one liked her; he had been in Trondhjem, and seen her. "Isak, you've put in some work here."
"Ay, I dare say And you've seen Inger?"
"What's that you've got over there? Built a mill of your own, have you? grind your own corn? Excellent. And you've turned up a good bit of ground since I was here last."
"Is she well?"
"Eh? Oh, your wife!—yes, she's well and fit. Let's go in the next room. I'll tell you all about it."
"'Tis not in order," put in Oline. Oline had her own reasons for not wishing them to go in. They went into the little room nevertheless, and closed the door. Oline stood in the kitchen and could hear nothing.
Geissler sat down, slapped his knee with a powerful hand, and there he was—master of Isak's fate.
"You haven't sold that copper tract yet?" he asked.
"No."
"Good. I'll buy it myself. Yes, I've seen Inger and some other people too. She'll be out before long, if I'm not greatly mistaken—the case has been submitted to the King."