for money and he gave it, she thanked him as for
a gift. But for all that Axel could not make out where the money
went--what could she want money for out in the wilds? Was she hoarding
for herself? But what on earth was there to save and save for, all the
year round?

There was much that Axel could not make out. Hadn't he given her a
ring--ay, a real gold ring? And they had got on well together, too,
after that last gift; but it could not last for ever, far from it; and
he could not go on buying rings to give her. In a word--did she mean
to throw him over? Women were strange creatures! Was there a man
with a good farm and a well-stocked place of his own waiting for her
somewhere else? Axel could at times go so far as to strike his fist on
the table in his impatience with women and their foolish humours.

A strange thing, Barbro seemed to have nothing really in her head but
the thought of Bergen and town life. Well and good. But if so, why had
she come back at all, confound her! A telegram from her father would
never have moved her a step in itself; she must have had some other
reason. And now here she was, eternally discontented from morning to
night, year after year. All these wooden buckets, instead of proper
iron pails; cooking-pots instead of saucepans; the everlasting milking
instead of a little walk round to the dairy; heavy boots, yellow soap,
a pillow stuffed with hay; no military bands, no people. Living like
this....

They had many little bouts after the one big quarrel. Ho, time and
again they were at it! "You say no more about it, if you're wise,"
said Barbro. "And not to speak of what you've done about father and
all."

Said Axel: "Well, what have I done?"

"Oh, you know well enough," said she. "But for all that you'll not be
Inspector, anyway."

"Ho!"

"No, that you won't. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Meaning I'm not good enough, perhaps?"

"Oh, good enough and good enough.... Anyway, you can't read nor write,
and never so much as take a newspaper to look at."

"As to that," said he, "I can read and write all I've any need for.
But as for you, with all your gabble and talk ... I'm sick of it."

"Well, then, here's that to begin with," said she, and threw down the
silver ring on the table.

"Ho!" said he, after a while. "And what about the other?"

"Oh, if you want your rings back that you gave me, you can have them,"
said she, trying to pull off the gold one.

"You can be as nasty a