And there was the mistress in the doorway.
She had come out, perhaps, with no more thought than that the girls
were making too much noise, but now she stood looking, very closely
at Barbro, at Barbro's apron over her breast; ay, leaning forward and
looking very closely indeed. It was a painful moment. And suddenly Fru
Heyerdahl screams and draws back to the door. What on earth can it be?
thinks Barbro, and looks down at herself. _Herregud_! a flea, nothing
more. Barbro cannot help smiling, and being not unused to acting under
critical circumstances, she flicks off the flea at once.
"On the floor!" cried Fru Heyerdahl. "Are you mad, girl? Pick it up
at once!" Barbro begins looking about for it, and once more acts with
presence of mind: she makes as if she had caught the creature, and
drops it realistically into the fire.
"Where did you get it?" asks her mistress angrily.
"Where I got it?"
"Yes, that's what I want to know."
But here Barbro makes a bad mistake. "At the store," she ought to have
said, of course--that would have been quite enough.
Pages:
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610