"No use for you?" cried the old man. "You don't know how soon you may be needed on the farm. Elof lived only two years, and who knows how long Halvor will hold out?"
"Halvor is a strong, hearty fellow," Ingmar reminded.
"You must know, of course, that Halvor will turn the farm over to you as soon as you're able to buy it back."
"He'd be a fool to give up the Ingmar Farm now that it has fallen into his hands."
During this colloquy Ingmar sat gripping the edge of the plain deal table. Suddenly a noise was heard as of something cracking. Ingmar had broken off a corner of the table. "If you become a school-teacher, he'll never let you have the farm," the old man went on.
"You think not?"
"Think—think? Well it's plain how you have been brought up. Have you ever driven a plow?"
"No."
"Or tended a kiln, or felled a huge pine?"
Ingmar sat there looking quite placid, but the table kept crumbling under his fingers. Finally the old man began to take notice.