raged without. The closet was so narrow that they could scarcely stir in it. The mother produced a bundle still smaller than the one Petra carried, opened it, and drew forth a suit of sailor’s clothes.
“Put these on,” she whispered.
Petra immediately understood why she must do so, and it touched her that her mother did not mention the reason. She undressed and put on the sailor’s suit. Her mother helped her, and in so doing she once came near the candle, so that Petra saw for the first time that Gunlaug was old. Had she grown so during these last days, or had Petra never noticed it before? The daughter’s tears rolled down on the mother, but the latter did not look up, and so Petra found no words. A south-wester was the last article handed her, and when she had put it on, her mother took her bundle from her, blew out the candle, and whispered,—
“Come, now!”
They went out again in the passage, but did not go through the front door; Gunlaug opened the door to the yard and locked it again after they had passed out. They walked through the trampled-down garden, the fallen trees, the broken fence.
“You may as well look about you now,” said
