XV
Autumn was setting in; the wind rushing through the woods, the sea yellow and cold, and a great awakening of stars in the sky. But Ove Rolandsen had no time now for watching meteor flights, though he’d as great a fancy as ever for such things. There had been gangs of men at work on Mack’s factory of late, pulling down here and setting up there, under orders from Rolandsen, who managed it all. He had settled all difficulties now, and was a man of mark.
“I knew he would get on,” said Old Mack. “I believed in him all along.”
“I did not,” said proud Elise. “The way he goes about now. It’s as if he’d been the saving of us all.”
“Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” said Mack.
“He says a word of greeting when he passes, but he never stops for a reply. He just walks on.”
“Ah! he’s busy, that’s all.”