“What?” “That's what we used to say in Nordland.” “Oh yes.” The Captain is busy with his work, and in the rustle of the straw he does not always hear what she says, but has to look up and ask again, and this annoys them both. “Are the oats ripe?” she asks. “Yes, thank goodness!” “But not dry, I suppose?” “Eh? I can't hear what you say.” “Oh, I didn't say anything.” A long, uncomfortable silence after that. The Captain tries once or twice with a good-humoured word, but gets no answer. “So you're out on a round of inspection,” he says jestingly. “Have you seen how the potatoes are getting on?” “No,” she answers. “But I'll go over there, by all means, if you can't bear the sight of me here.” It was too dreadful to hear them going on like this. I must have frowned unconsciously--shown some such feeling. Then, suddenly remembering that for certain reasons I was to be cold as ice, I frowned the more. Freun looked straight at me and said: “What are you scowling at?” “Scowling, eh?” says the Captain, joining in, with a forced laugh. Fruen takes him up on the instant. “Ah! you managed to hear that time!” “Really, Lovise....” Fruen's eyes dimmed suddenly; she stood a moment then ran, stooping forward, round behind the frames, and sobbed. The Captain went over to her. “What is it, Lovise, tell me?” “Oh, nothing, nothing! Go away.” She was sick; we could hear it. And moaning and saying: “Heaven help me!” “My wife's not very well just now,” says the Captain to me. “We can't make out what it is.” “There's sickness in the neighbourhood,” I suggested, for something to say. “Sort of autumn fever. I heard about it up at the post office.” “Is there, though? Why, there you are, Lovise,” he calls out. “There's some sort of fever about, it seems. That's all it is.” Fruen made no answer. We went on loading up, and Fruen moved farther and farther away as we came up. At last the frames were cleared, and she stood there guiltily, very pale after her trouble. “Shall I see you back to the house?” asked the Captain. “No, thank you, I'd rather not,” she answered, walking away. The Captain stayed out and worked with us till evening. * * * * * So here was everything gone wrong again. Oh, but it was hard for them both! And it was not just a little matter that could be got over by a little give and take on either side, as folk say; no, it was a thing insuperable, a trouble rooted deep. And now it had come to mutiny, no less: Fruen had taken to locking her door at night. Ragnhild had heard the Captain, highly offended, talking to her through the wall. But that evening the Captain had demanded to speak with her in her room before she went to bed. Fruen agreed, and there was a further scene. Each was willing and anxious, no doubt, to set matters right, but it was hopeless now; it was too late. We sat in the kitchen, Nils and I, listening to Ragnhild's story. I had never seen Nils look so miserable before.