“No,” said Petter Nord, and not another word would he say. It was inhuman to talk to him of such things on the way home from his first ball. Beyond the shop there was a little dark room for the shop-boy. There sat Petter Nord of to-day and came to an understanding with Petter Nord of yesterday. How pale and cowardly the churl looked. Now he heard what he really was. A thief and a miser. Did he know the seventh commandment? By rights he ought to have forty stripes. That was what he deserved. God be blessed and praised for having let him go to the ball and get a new view of it all. Usch! what ugly thoughts he had had; but now it was quite changed. As if riches were worth sacrificing conscience and the soul’s freedom for their sake! As if they were worth as much as a white mouse, if the heart could not be glad at the same time! He clapped his hands and cried out in joy—that he was free, free, free! There was not even a longing to possess the fifty crowns in his heart. How good it was to be happy! When he had gone to bed, he thought that he would show Halfvorson the fifty crowns early the next morning. Then he became uneasy that the tradesman might come into the shop before him the next morning, search for the note and find it. He might easily think that Petter Nord had hidden it to keep it. The thought gave him no peace. He tried to shake it off, but he could not succeed. He could not sleep. So he rose, crept into the shop and felt about till he found the fifty crowns. Then he fell asleep with the note under his pillow. An hour later he awoke. A light shone sharply in his eyes; a hand was fumbling under his pillow and a rumbling voice was scolding and swearing. Before the boy was really awake, Halfvorson had the note in his hand and showed it to the two women, who stood in the doorway to his room. “You see that I was right,” said Halfvorson. “You see that it was well worth while for me to drag you up to bear witness against him! You see that he is a thief!” “No, no, no,” screamed poor Petter Nord. “I did not wish to steal. I only hid the note.” Halfvorson heard nothing. Both the women stood with their backs turned to the room, as if determined to neither hear nor see. Petter Nord sat up in bed. He looked all of a sudden pitifully weak and small. His tears were streaming. He wailed aloud. “Uncle,” said Edith, “he is weeping.” “Let him weep,” said Halfvorson, “let him weep!” And he walked forward and looked at the boy. “You can weep all you like,” he said, “but that does not take me in.” “Oh, oh,” cried Petter Nord, “I am no thief. I hid the note as a joke—to make you angry. I wanted to pay you back for the mice. I am not a thief. Will no one listen to me. I am not a thief.” “Uncle,” said Edith, “if you have tortured him enough now, perhaps we may go back to bed?”