The lady, too, had risen; she took the proffered hand, held it between both of hers, and looked once more so lovingly into the child’s eyes, that her little heart was moved.  Then she kissed her forehead and said:  “You dear child, you were a friendly picture in our quiet room.”

Then she let go of her hand, and Sally went through the open door into the small kitchen.  The boy, meanwhile, had opened the house door and now he stood outside quite courteously, like a doorkeeper, to bid Sally good-bye.

“Are you not coming to school tomorrow?”

“Yes, indeed,” was the answer.

That pleased Sally very much and she at once decided that he must become Edi’s friend, for she had taken a great liking to the boy and when he was Edi’s friend then he would be hers too, and he must come every Sunday afternoon and spend it with them and they would teach him all kinds of games; and many undertakings passed through her brain, for with this friend everything could be carried out; he was so entirely different from other boys and girls in the school.  “Then you are coming to-morrow?” she asked with happy expectation.

“Where shall I come?” he questioned in return.

“To school, of course.”

“Yes, indeed, I’ll come to school.”

“Well, then, good-bye,” said Sally, giving her hand, “but I do not know your name.”

“Erick—­and yours?”

“Sally.”

Now they shook hands, and Erick remained standing in the doorway until Sally had turned round the hedge, then he shut the door and Sally ran toward the house of the Justice of Peace.  Before she reached it, old Marianne met her, panting under the large bundle of horsehair which she was carrying on her head.  Sally was delighted to see her, for she had just remembered that she had not given ’Lizebeth’s message.  She rushed so quickly toward the old woman and with such force, that the latter went back some steps and almost lost her balance, and Sally cried out:  “Marianne, you have such nice people in your rooms.  Do you talk much with them?  Do you cook for them?  Do you buy the things they need?  Have they no maid?  Do you make their beds?”

“Gently, gently,” said Marianne, who had recovered her balance, “else I lose my breath.  But tell me, how did you get into the people’s room?  I hope you know how I am to be found.”

Sally told her that she, for the shorter way, had not gone round the house, where, in the woodshed, a narrow stair went up to Marianne’s small room; but that she had wanted to run in the front way, through the kitchen, and out the back door; but that she had stood suddenly before the open door of the room and under the eyes of the lady.

“You must never do that again,” Marianne interrupted Sally, raising her finger warningly.  “Do you hear that, Sally?  Never do that again.  They are not people into whose home you can rush, as if they were living on the highway.”