sat in her room sobbing.

It did surprise her a little that her mistress lay so quiet all the time
without calling her. On the other hand, she rather enjoyed the sentence
she was carrying out. Her mistress should know what opposing her meant,
even if it were to last the whole week.

It grew dark, and still her mistress lay there. She lay until the Consul
came driving home towards evening; and she did not even ring for lights
when she got up.

It was with a shawl about her head and a face red with weeping, that
Mrs. Veyergang received her husband that evening; she was in a violently
excited state of mind, and her voice quite trembled.

She wanted nothing less than that he should give Barbara warning.

A tyranny existed in the house that was quite unparalleled--had existed
for several years--and if she had put up with it without
complaining--her husband knew that she had never complained--it was for
the children's sake. But it was really unnecessary now, and "it may be
just as well to seize the opportunity; she has become far, far too
overbearing in the house!"

It was a matter of course that the warning was given in the most
appreciative and considerate, although firmly decisive manner. The whole
circle of Mrs. Veyergang's acquaintance agreed that they had all
expected that the Veyergangs would really one day part with that
pampered creature!

The only person who was thoroughly astonished and quite stunned, as if
by a thunder-clap, was Barbara herself; and for a long time she could
not understand that she, the Veyergangs' Barbara, had actually received
warning to leave Ludvig and Lizzie and the house where she had been so
indispensable.

She went about with a solemn, injured air, and expected that a change of
decision would some day take place. Then she became humble to her
mistress, and wept before the children.

But there was always only the same kindness, which ever clenched the
dismissal more firmly.

And now her mistress began to talk about a substantial acknowledgement
of her services with which the Consul would present her on her
departure.

In indignation Barbara tied the strings of her best bonnet beneath her
chin, and with offended dignity requested permission to go into town.

Her mistress was to know the meaning of this when she returned later in
the day. It was nothing less than that it was her fixed, resolute
purpose to offer herself to others who would appreciate her better than
the Veyerga