And this was how it came about: When Lieutenant Lagerlöf and his brother as lads attended school at Karlstad, their mother, the old mistress, had sent her trusted housekeeper along with the boys, to look after them and prepare their meals. While there, she had made the acquaintance of a carpenter, who proposed to her. When on her return to Mårbacka in the spring she announced that she was going to be married, the old mistress was both sad and alarmed at the thought of losing her “greatest treasure.” “And what sort of fellow are you marrying?” she had asked her. “Do you know whether he is a good man?” Oh, yes, she was certain of that. He was a boss carpenter, who had his own shop and his own home. The house was in order, so that she might be married at once, and she could never have found a better husband. “But how can you be content to live the year round in a barren city street--you who have always lived in the country?” the old mistress had then said. Oh, she had no fears as to that. All would be well for her hereafter. She was to have an easy life--no baking, no brewing; she had only to go to the market and bring home whatever was needed. When the old mistress heard her housekeeper speak in that manner she knew the woman was bent on marriage, and there was nothing to be done but give her a wedding at Mårbacka. The bridegroom appeared to be a clever, sensible sort, and the day after the wedding he took his bride to Karlstad. One evening a fortnight later--no, it was hardly that long--as the old mistress went out to the larder to slice some ham for supper (she could never take up the key to the larder but she thought of Maja Persdotter and wondered how she was getting along), she said to herself: “If I had not sent her to Karlstad she would never have met that carpenter and I should still have my good helper, and wouldn’t have to run out to the larder twenty times a day, as I do now.” Suddenly she saw a figure coming through the birch grove that was the living image of her housekeeper. The nearer the figure approached the more certain was Grandmother Lagerlöf of what she beheld. When Maja Persdotter presently stood before her and said, “Good-evening, Frua,” she had to believe her eyes and ears. “Well, well, is it you, Maja Persdotter!” she exclaimed. “But what brings you here? Haven’t you got a good husband?” “All he does is drink,” declared the housekeeper. “He’s been drunk every day since the wedding. It’s the pure alcohol he should be using in his work he guzzles. I can’t put up any longer with such a swine.” “But I thought you were to go to the market and buy all your provisions, in order to escape hard work?” “I’ll work my fingers to the bone for Frua and the children if you’ll only take me back!” vowed the housekeeper. “I’ve wished myself back at Mårbacka day and night since I went away.”