"You'll do nothing of the sort. _Nobody_ interrupts Martin when he is at work. We are forbidden even to knock at the door for anything short of a fire or an earthquake. It might spoil his work for the whole morning." Grizel stared at her thoughtfully. "That reminds me," she soliloquised slowly. "I _promised_ to help him, and it's four whole days, and I've never been near! It's my duty to go at once, and I'll tell him my brain can't work unless I'm warm. We'll light a fire and roast, while you swim home with the cabbage. Why on earth didn't I think of that before?" She smiled into her hostess's face with an easy assurance which brought a spark into the dark blue eyes. Katrine was honestly trying not to be angry. Before now she had had experience of Grizel in a perverse mood, and knew that it was not by force that one could move her from her purpose. She adopted an air of resignation, and approached the bell. "Very well, then, you shall have your fire, and you can read comfortably beside it, or write letters, while I'm away. And I'll tell Mary to bring you a cup of chocolate. You are a spoiled baby, Grizel; when you've taken it into your head to do a thing, one might as well give in first as last." "Yes," agreed Grizel calmly. "I'm going to Martin." She rose in her turn and strolled towards the door, while Katrine stood helpless, her hand on the bell. "Grizel!" "Yes." "Don't go!" There was a look on her face, a tone in her voice, which arrested Grizel's attention. Half-way across the room she paused, and studied her hostess with those eyes which looked so lazy, but which saw so uncommonly well. There was dread as well as annoyance on Katrine's face. "What will happen if I do? What is it you are afraid of?" "He'll be furious. Terribly angry." But in her heart Katrine knew that this was not her fear. Her fear was lest Martin should _not_ be angry. Grizel considered, a slow smile curving her lips. "But that," she said, "would be amusing. Much more amusing than buying cabbages. I'd like to see Martin angry!"