LAURA E. POULSSON (continued 3)

There was a good-for-nothing old pocketknife that had been given to her by Ole the first summer on the mountain. There was a letter from Ole, too, that she had received the last autumn, and that no one knew about. In it he had asked if he might send her and Jacob tickets to America after she had been confirmed. She had not answered the letter yet, but she would do it soon now, and thank him, and say that she was not coming,—for she knew that she could never leave Norway.

And then she took out the goat horn that Peter had given her. She was seized with a strong desire to play on it, but did not dare to, because it would sound so strange in the house. Next to the place where the goat horn had lain was a silk neckerchief that Peter had given her for Christmas. He had sent it by Jacob. She herself had not seen or spoken with Peter since that Sunday last year when he had found her on the mountain, until to-day at the church.

And there was the letter she had received from Jacob in regard to their meeting at Peerout Castle. It was the only letter she had ever had from him,—Jacob was not one to write much; but she had a few small gifts that he had sent her.

Down at the very bottom of the chest lay a kerchief that she had never taken out before,—her mother's kerchief. It seemed to Lisbeth that now was the first time she had really dared to think about her mother. She took out the kerchief and spread it on the bed; and when, as she did so, her eye caught sight of her old long frock hanging on the wall, she spread that, too, on the bed. Then she seated herself and gazed upon these simple objects. The time had arrived when it was possible for her to look back without becoming hopelessly sorrowful; when she could ponder over the rich memories which these poor relics hid,—the memories from Peerout Castle not being the least precious. She sat nourishing these thoughts a long time, beginning at the beginning, as far back as she could remember, and going forward to this very Sunday. The memories came easily and in regular succession, and all of them were good memories. Everything that had seemed hard at the time either had been forgotten or was seen now in a softer light.

Suddenly there came a knock at the door; and before Lisbeth had had time to conceal the things, or presence of mind enough to rise from her chair, in walked Kjersti Hoel.

Lisbeth saw that Kjersti noticed the things at once, but she was not in the least embarrassed, for Kjersti only smiled kindly and said: "I see that you are thinking about your mother to-day, Lisbeth, and that is right; but now come with me into my room. There is something I wish to talk with you about."

Lisbeth was half alarmed at this, for never before had Kjersti spoken so seriously to her; but she rose quietly and did as she was bidden.

Kjersti went ahead, through the kitchen and across to the door of her own room, Lisbeth following close behind her. The others in the kitchen looked at them curiously, wondering what was going to happen.

Once in her room, Kjersti took a seat beside the table and asked Lisbeth to sit at the opposite side. Then said Kjersti: "You are now grown up, Lisbeth Longfrock, and hereafter you will be free to decide things for yourself. I have kept the last promise I made to your mother, and I can to-day say that it has been only a pleasure for me to do so. You have turned out well, as may be expected of every good girl; if you do as well in the future, I really believe that your mother would be satisfied with both you and me. But from to-day I have no longer any right to decide things for you. You must decide for yourself what you will do and what you think is right. I will therefore ask you—and you are to choose with entire freedom—whether you wish to stay here with me any longer, or whether, now that you are to earn your own living, you would rather try something else. I can add that I should like very much to have you stay here."

For a while there was a deep silence. Then Lisbeth looked up with big tears in her eyes and said, "I should like to stay with you, Kjersti Hoel, as long as you are pleased with me."

"That is what I thought, and therefore I have also thought of another thing. Of course you are very young yet, but it is not always unwise to put responsibility on young shoulders. You have shown yourself so faithful and capable, not only at the cow house but at the sæter as well, that I have no fear in intrusting both to your care. If you wish it to be so, I will now appoint you head milkmaid at Hoel Farm."

Footnotes

¹ It is customary in Norway for each farm, however small, to have a name.

² (In the original, Rœnnaug.) This was the mother's first name. Her full name would be Randi Newridge, or Randi Peerout.

³ Kyare'-stee.

⁴ Sva-howg-en.

⁵ Norwegian children in country districts are accustomed to see goats walking about on the roofs of turf-covered huts, nibbling the herbage; but the idea of a creature so large as to be able to eat from the roof while standing on the ground was very astonishing to Lisbeth.

⁶ Lisbeth meant to be very neat and tidy, but she should have let her bed air longer before making it!

⁷ Mulley (cow without horns).

⁸ Pronounced (approximately) say'ter.

⁹ In some districts of Norway the farmers are required to keep one or more horses subject to the needs of the government, under certain conditions of use and payment.

¹⁰ Pronounce the œ like the e in her and th like t.

¹¹ Loond'eh (oo as in good).

¹² A species of horsetail rush (Equisetum hyemale), having a rough, flinty surface. It is used for scouring and polishing.

¹³ Lisbeth's ordinary shoes were clumsy wooden ones.

¹⁴ Horses, as well as other animals, are sent up on the mountains to graze during the summer. They roam about at will, and sometimes go home of their own accord at the end of the season, if no one has been sent to fetch them.

¹⁵ The mountain referred to is Galdhœpiggen.

¹⁶ Cream that has been allowed to stand until it has attained a jellylike consistency. Loppered milk is sometimes called bonnyclabber.

¹⁷ A pet name for the dun-colored Norwegian horses.

¹⁸ An expression from the Latin, often used in old-fashioned Norwegian correspondence. It meant, in a general way, "Pardon any error in the address."

¹⁹ See note on page 45.