Part 2 (1/2)

Lessons might be easy, but something else was difficult and led to conflict. Mrs. Dawes wished to bring about a general alteration in the child's habits, and here she had the father against her. But he was, of course, worsted, and that before he understood what she was about. Marit had to learn to obey; she had to learn the meaning of punctuality, of order, of politeness, of tact. She had to practise every day, to hold herself straight at table, to wash her hands an unlimited number of times, always to tell where she was going--and all this against her own will, and really against her father's, too.

Mrs. Dawes had one sure base from which to operate. This was the child's unbounded faith in her mother's perfection. She convinced Marit that her mother had never gone to bed later than eight o'clock. Before getting into bed, too, Mother had always arranged her clothes upon a chair and set her shoes outside the door.

From what Mother had done, and done to perfection, Mrs. Dawes went on to what Mother would have done if she had been in Marit's place, and, also, to what she would not have done if she had been Marit. This proved harder. When Mrs. Dawes, for instance, a.s.sured her that her mother had never ridden out of sight on her bicycle, Marit asked: ”How do you know that?” ”I know it because I know that your father and mother were never away from each other.” ”That is true, Marit,” said her father, glad to be able for once to confirm one of Mrs. Dawes's a.s.sertions; most of them were not true.

The farther the work of education progressed, the more interested in it did Mrs. Dawes become, and the stronger did her hold on the child grow.

She set herself the task of eradicating Marit's dream-life, an inheritance from her mother, which flourished exuberantly as long as her father encouraged it and took pleasure in it.

One spring Marit rushed in and told her father that in a hollow in the old tree between Mother's and Grandmother's graves there was a little nest, and in the nest were tiny, tiny little eggs. ”It's a message from Mother, isn't it?” He nodded, and went with her to look at it. But when they came near, the bird flew out piping lamentably. ”Mother says we are not to go nearer?” questioned Marit. To this her father answered: ”Yes.” ”It would be the same as disturbing Mother if we did?” continued she. He nodded.--They walked back to the house, perfectly happy, talking of Mother all the way. When Marit told Mrs. Dawes about this afterwards, Mrs. Dawes said to her: ”Your father answers 'Yes' to such questions because he does not want to grieve you, child. If your Mother could send you a message, she would come herself.” There was no end to the revolution which those few cruel words wrought. They altered even the relation between the child and her father.

The lessons went on steadily, and so did the training, until Marit was nearly thirteen--tall, very thin, large-eyed, with luxuriant red hair and a pure white skin guiltless of freckles, which was Mrs. Dawes's pride.

About this time Krog came in one day from the library to stop the lessons. This had not happened during all the years they had gone on.

Marit was allowed to go. Mrs. Dawes accompanied Anders into the library.

”Be kind enough to read this letter.”

She read, and learned what she had had no idea of--that the man who was standing before her, watching her face whilst she read, was a millionaire--and that not in kroner, but in dollars. Since receiving the bank deposits and shares at the time of his uncle's death, he had drawn nothing from America--and this was the result.

”I congratulate you,” said Mrs. Dawes, and seized his right hand in both of hers. Her eyes filled with tears: ”And I understand you, dear Mr.

Krog; it is your wish that we should travel now.”

He looked at her, a glad smile in his bright eyes. ”Have you any objection, Mrs. Dawes?”

”Not if we take servants with us. You know how lame I am.”

”Servants you shall have, and we shall keep a carriage wherever we are.

Lessons can go on, can't they?”

”Of course they can. Better than ever!” She beamed and wept. She said to herself that she had never felt so happy.

A fortnight later the three, with maid and manservant, had left Krogskogen.

THE SCEPTRE CHANGES HANDS

Two years and a half pa.s.sed, during the course of which Krog was at home several times, unaccompanied by the others. Then it was determined that they should all spend a summer at Krogskogen. With this project in view the three were in a draper's shop in Vienna. Mrs. Dawes and Marit were to have new clothes, Marit especially being in need of them, as she had grown out of hers. It was the first week of May; summer dresses were to be chosen.

”We think, both your father and I, that you must have long dresses now.

You are so tall.”

Marit looked at her father, but the materials which lay spread out in front of him engaged his attention. Mrs. Dawes spoke for him.

”Your father says that when you are walking with him, gentlemen look at your legs.”

Krog began to fidget. Even the lady behind the counter felt that there was thunder in the air. She did not understand the language, but she saw the three faces. At last Anders heard Marit answering in a curious, but quite pleasant voice:

”Is it because Mother had long dresses when she was my age that I am to have them?”