V
One bad year never comes alone. Isak had grown patient, and took what fell to his lot. The corn was parched, and the hay was poor, but the potatoes looked like pulling through once more—bad enough, all things together, but not the worst. Isak had still a season’s yield of cordwood and timber to sell in the village, and the herring fishery had been rich all round the coast, so there was plenty of money to buy wood. Indeed, it almost looked like a providence that the corn harvest had failed—for how could he have threshed it without a barn and threshing-floor? Call it providence; there’s no harm in that sometimes.
There were other things not so easily put out of mind. What was it a certain Lapp had said to Inger that summer—something about not having bought? Buy, what should he buy for
