One evening there came visitors to the place, and as Petter was still poorly, and the other lad was only a youngster, I had to go and take out the horses. A lady got out of the carriage.

“Is any one at home?” she asked.

The sound of wheels had brought faces to the windows; lamps were lit in the rooms and passages. Fruen came out, calling:

“Is that you, Elisabeth? I’m so glad you’ve come.”

It was Fr?ken¹ Elisabeth from the vicarage.

“Is he here?” she asked in surprise.

“Who?”

It was myself she meant. So she had recognized me. . . .

Next day the two young ladies came out to us in the wood. At first I was afraid lest some rumour² of a certain nightly ride on borrowed horses should have reached the vicarage, but calmed myself when nothing was said of it.

“The water-pipes are doing nicely,” said Fr?ken Elisabeth.

I was pleased to hear it.

“Water-pipes?” said Fruen inquiringly.

“He laid on a water-supply to the house for us. Pipes in the kitchen and upstairs as well. Just turn a tap and there it is. You ought to have it done here.”

“Really, though? Could it be done here, do you think?”

I answered: yes; it ought to be easy enough.

“Why didn’t you speak to my husband about it?”

“I did speak of it. He said he would see what Fruen thought about it.”

Awkward pause. So he would not speak to her even of a thing that so nearly concerned herself. I hastened to break the silence, and said at random³.

“Anyhow, it’s too late to start this year; the winter would be on us before we could get it done. But next spring. . . . ”

Fruen seemed to come back to attention from somewhere far away.

“Oh yes, I remember now, he did say something about it,” she said. “We talked it over. But it was too late this year. . . . Elisabeth, don’t you like watching them felling trees?”

We used a rope now and then to guide the tree in its fall. Falkenberg had just fixed⁴ this rope high up, and the tree stood swaying.

“What’s that for?”

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