That day Lars Peter had to go down to the marsh and dig a ditch, to drain a piece of the land. Johannes got a spade and went with him. He worked with such a will that Lars Peter had some difficulty in keeping up with him. "'Tis easy to see you're young," said he, "the way you go at it."
"Why don't you ditch the whole and level it out? 'Twould make a good meadow," said Johannes.
Ay, why not? Lars Peter did not know himself. "If only a fellow had some one to work with," said he.
"Do you get any peat here?" asked Johannes once when they were taking a breathing space.
"No, nothing beyond what we use ourselves; 'tis a hard job to cut it."
"Ay, when you use your feet! But you ought to get a machine to work with a horse; then a couple of men can do ever so many square feet in a day."
Lars Peter became thoughtful. Ideas and advice had been poured into him and he would have liked to go thoroughly through them and digest them one by one. But Johannes gave him no time.
The next minute he was by the clay-pit. There was uncommonly fine material for bricks, he thought.
Ay, Lars Peter knew it all only too well. The first summer he was married, Sörine had made bricks to build the outhouse and it had stood all kinds of weather. But one pair of hands could not do everything.
And thus Johannes went from one thing to the other. He was observant and found ways for everything; there was no end to his plans. Lars Peter had to attend; it was like listening to an old, forgotten melody. Marsh, clay-pit and the rest had said the same year after year, though more slowly; now he had hardly time to follow. It was inspiriting, all at once to see a way out of all difficulties.