The Captain spoke to Nils about the timber; he thought of disposing of the whole lot, or selling it standing. Nils took this to mean that he didn’t like the idea of having more new folk about the place. “It looks like things are as bad as ever with him and Fruen,” said Nils.

We are getting in the potatoes now, and since we are thus far there is less hurry and anxiety about the work. But there is still much to be done. The ploughing is behindhand, and Lars Falkenberg and I are both at it, field and meadow land.

Nils, queer creature that he was, began to find things intolerable at ?vreb? again, and talked of throwing up his place and going off altogether. But he couldn’t bear the disgrace of leaving his service like that. Nils had his own clear notions of honour, handed down through many generations. A young man from a big farm could not behave like a lad from a cottar’s holding. And then he hadn’t been here long enough yet; ?vreb? had been sadly ill-managed before he came: it would take some years to bring it round again. It was only this year, when he’d had more help with the work, that he’d been able to do anything properly. But from now onward he might begin to look for some result of his work; look at this year’s harvest, the fine heavy grain! The Captain, too, had looked at the crops with wonder and thankfulness — the first time for many years. There would be plenty to sell.

All things considered, then, it was senseless for Nils to think of leaving ?vreb?. But he must go home for a couple of days to his people — they lived a little way north of us. So he gave himself two days’ leave as soon as the potatoes were all out of the ground. No doubt he’d good reason for going — perhaps to see his sweetheart, we thought — and when he came back he was bright and full of energy as ever, and took up work again at once.

We were sitting at dinner in the kitchen one day when out comes Fruen from the front door of the house, and goes tearing down the road, all wild and excited. Then the Captain came out, calling after her: “Lovise, what is it, Lovise? Where are you going?” But Fruen only called back: “Leave me alone!”

We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the table; she must go after her mistress, she said.

“That’s right,” said Nils, calm as ever. “But go indoors first and see if she’s moved those photographs.”

“They’re still there,” said Ragnhild as she went out.

Outside, we heard the Captain telling her to go and look after her mistress.

There was no one but took thought for Fruen in her distress.

We went out to the fields again. Said Nils to me:

“She ought to take away those photos; it’s not right of her to leave them there. I don’t know what she can be thinking of to do it.”

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