[Footnote 1:  The days for changing servants in Norway are in the spring and autumn.  In Christiania they are the second Friday after Easter, and the second Friday after Michaelmas.]

She went down into the cellar with the lantern one evening to fetch coal and wood, panting and puffing down the stairs as she used to do; she had a bend in both hips from rheumatism, and rocked from one side to the other like a boat’s mast in rough weather.

From the wood-cellar she all at once heard a sound as of wailing in the darkness within.  It was as though some one were crying, and now and again sobbing convulsively for some time without being able to produce a distinct sound.

The voice sounded so utterly broken-hearted that Maren stopped putting the wood into her apron and stood by the chopping-block listening.  It seemed to come from one of the coal cellars up the dark passage.  At last she seized the lantern and groped her way in; she must come to the bottom of this.

“Is any one here?” she cried at the door whence the sobbing came.

There was a sudden complete silence.

She knocked hard with a bit of wood, but then from within there came a terrified scream, which made Maren drop the wood from her apron and pull open the hasp of the door which was fastened with a piece of wood.

“But who has put the poor little boy in here—­in the pitch black darkness?”

By the light of the lantern she saw Nikolai staring at her in wild terror.

“I thought it was the devil, I did.  Yes, for he does knock on the wall.”

“Oh, you’d frighten any one out of their senses, boy, with those ugly words!”

“Mrs. Holman says so;” and with a quick, inquiring glance up at Maren he added, “but do you think she only says it so that I shan’t touch her sugar?”

“Is that what you are here for?”

“I haven’t taken anything from her, but I will, if she says it whether I do or not!  It was only that Monday when I put my tongue down into the bag and licked when I’d gone for half a pound.  But now I’ll crunch it so that she’ll only have the empty bag left!  I’ll take!  I’ll steal!” he added and ground his teeth.  “Don’t—­don’t go!” he sobbed, catching hold of her dress, “for when it’s dark again, he’ll come and take me!”

What was Maren to do?  She stood hesitating and considering; she dare not let the boy out.

She might try and beg him off from Mrs. Holman.

“Only get me another beating for that, too!” was the answer.

There was nothing else for it; she could not let the poor little frightened thing stay there in the coal-hole.  So, with eyes closed to the consequences of her own determination, she exclaimed:  “Then you must come up into the kitchen with me, and sleep on the bench there to-night.”

This time, Nikolai did not weigh the probabilities of what Mrs. Holman would say or do; he only took hold of her skirt with both hands.  And with the boy close in her wake, Maren sailed up the kitchen stairs again.