It might have been pleasant enough to work side by side with my old mate Lars Falkenberg once more, but he and Nils could not get on together, and instead of cheerful comradeship, a gloomy silence hung over the fields. Lars seemed to have got over his late ill-will towards me in some degree, but he was short and sullen with us all on account of Nils. At last Nils decided that Lars should take the pair of chestnuts and get to work on the autumn ploughing. Lars was offended, and said crossly: No. He'd never heard of doing things that way before, he said, starting to plough your land before you'd got the harvest off it. “That may be,” said Nils, “but I'll find you land that has been reaped enough to keep you going.” There were more words over that. Lars found everything all wrong somehow at Øvrebø. In the old days he used to do his work and sing songs after for the company at the house; now, it was all a mess and a muddle, and no sense in any way of doing things. Ploughing, indeed! Not if he knew it. “You don't know what you're talking about,” said Nils. “Nowadays you'll see folk ploughing between the corn-poles and the hay-frames.” “I've not seen it yet,” said Lars. “But it seems you've seen a lot. Of all the silly goats....” But the end of it was that Lars gave way, Nils being head man there, and went on ploughing till the Captain came home. It crossed my mind that I had left some washing behind with Emma when I went away, before. But I judged it best not to go up to the clearing after it now, while Lars was in his present mood. X The Captain and his wife came next day. Nils and I had talked over whether to hoist the flag; I dared not myself, but Nils was less cautious, and said we must. So there it was, flapping broad and free from its white staff. I was close at hand when the carriage drove up and they got out. Fruen walked out far across the courtyard, looked at the house, and clapped her hands. I heard her, too, loud in wonder as she entered the hall--at sight of the stairs, no doubt, and the new red carpet. Grindhusen had no sooner got the horses in than he came up to me, all agape with astonishment over something, and drew me aside to talk. “There must be something wrong,” he said. “That's not Fru Falkenberg, surely? Is she married to him--the Captain, I mean?” “Why, yes, Grindhusen, the Captain's wife is married to the Captain. What makes you ask?” “But it's that cousin girl! I'll stake my life on it if it's not the very same one. The Inspector's cousin that was there.” “Not a bit of it, Grindhusen. But it might be her sister.” “But I'll stake my life on it. I saw her with him myself I don't know how many times.” “Well, well, she may be his cousin as far as that goes, but what's it to do with us?” “I saw it the moment she got out of the train. And she looked at me, too, and gave a start. I could see her breathing quickly after. Don't come telling me.... But I can't make out.... Is she from here?”