"
The girl's heart beat rapidly, but she said nothing.
"Did he speak to you about--why did you run away from him, girl?"
"Father, you know I don't like Hr. Bogstad. I don't know why; he is nice
and all that, but I don't like him anyway."
"You have such nonsensical ideas!" exclaimed the father, and he paused
before her in his impatient pacing back and forth. "He, the gentleman,
the possessor of thousands. Girl, do you know what you are doing when
you act like this? Can't you see that we are poor; that your father is
worked to death to provide for you all? That if you would treat him as
you should, we would be lifted out of this, and could get away from
this rock-ribbed island on to some land with soil on? Our future would
be secure. Can't you see it, girl? O, you little fool, for running away
from such a man. Don't you know he owns us all, as it were?"
"No, father, he does not."
"The very bread you eat and the water you drink come from his
possessions."
"Still, he does not own us all.
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