lived in Bergen and read the papers and been to the
theatre! She was no innocent lamb from the countryside ...

But Fru Heyerdahl must have grown suspicious at last. One day she
comes up at three in the morning to the maids' room and calls:
"Barbro!"

"Yes," answers Cook.

"It's Barbro I want. Isn't she there? Open the door."

Cook opens the door and explains as agreed upon, that Barbro had had
to run home for a minute about something. Home for a minute at this
time of night? Fru Heyerdahl has a good deal to say about that. And
in the morning there is a scene. Brede is sent for, and Fru Heyerdahl
asks: "Was Barbro at home with you last night--at three o'clock?"

Brede is unprepared, but answers: "Three o'clock? Yes, yes, quite
right. We sat up late, there was something we had to talk about," says
Brede.

The Lensmand's lady then solemnly declares that Barbro shall go out no
more at nights.

"No, no," says Brede.

"Not as long as she's in this house."

"No, no; there, you can see, Barbro, I told you so," says her father.

"You can go and see your parents now and then during the day," says
her mistress.

But Fru Heyerdahl was wide awake enough, and her suspicion was not
gone; she waited a week, and tried at four in the morning. "Barbro!"
she called. Oh, but this time 'twas Cook's turn out, and Barbro was at
home; the maids' room was a nest of innocence. Her mistress had to hit
on something in a hurry.

"Did you take in the washing last night?"

"Yes."

"That's a good thing, it's blowing so hard.... Good-night."

But it was not so pleasant for Fru Heyerdahl to get her husband to
wake her in the middle of the night and go padding across herself to
the servants' room to see if they were at home. They could do as they
pleased, she would trouble herself no more.

And if it had not been for sheer ill-luck, Barbro might have stayed
the year out in her place that way. But a few days ago the trouble had
come.

It was in the kitchen, early one morning. Barbro had been having some
words with Cook, and no light words either; they raised their voices,
forgetting all about their mistress. Cook was a mean thing and a
cheat, she had sneaked off last night out of her turn because it was
Sunday. And what excuse had she to give? Going to say good-bye to her
favourite sister that was off to America? Not a bit of it; Cook had
made no excuse at all, but simply said that Sunday night was one had
been owing to her for a l