"It's none of 'people's' business what I choose to do or not to do," returned Ragna, making little scribbles on the sheet of paper before her. When her Aunt came in, she had been asking herself if she were not really foolish in holding herself thus aloof from her fellows, but at the hint of public criticism on her actions she was up in arms again.
"Ragna, you are positively hopeless; I don't know how a niece of mine can have so little sense! If you lived in a hut in the woods or on the Desert of Sahara, you might do as you like, but here one has to consider the opinion of one's neighbours."
"Who is my neighbour?" quoted Ragna softly, smiling in spite of herself. She knew well that to her Aunt, "public opinion" consisted of the prejudices of four or five of the foremost families of Christiania; outside of that charmed circle she had a fine disregard as to what people might think, in fact she expected people of less importance to follow her example and conform to her opinions.
The smile was unwise in that it irritated the elder lady, already ruffled by the unsuccessful visit to Dr. Tommsen.
"Oh, you may well laugh in your sleeve at me, Miss Know-it-all! The day will come when you will realise that I am in the right—and it may be too late!"
Ragna made no reply; she returned to her writing and the scratching of her pen and the ticking of the clock filled the silence. Fru Boyesen, after one or two ineffectual efforts, rose from her chair and left the room.
"It's no use," she said to herself as she puffed up the stairs—she had grown very stout of late,—"she is quite impossible. I've more than half a mind to pack her off with the Bjorks. Else Bjork is not very clever, but she has brought Astrid up to be a credit to her and I think I'll let her try her hand with Ragna. I've been a fool to let her have her own way so long,—her head is full of the stuff these atheistic professors pour into it. I'll let her go; it can't do any harm, anyhow."
If she had entertained a secret hope that Ragna would elect to stay at home with her, and incidentally conform to her wishes in general, she was disappointed, for Ragna, when the proposition was broached to her, hailed it with delight. It would afford a welcome relief, she thought, from the growing monotony of her self-chosen occupations, which consistency forbade her to change of her own accord, and would at the same time remove her from her Aunt's ever more frequent innuendoes and reproaches, besides taking her to Italy, the land of her dreams. Of late the German Romanticists had formed the subject of her study and her mind was, as so many northern minds were at that time, possessed by the "Drang nach Italien."
There was much to be arranged for the journey, as Fru Bjork, in spite of her many travels was always flustered by a fresh start; Astrid was of no practical use and Ragna too much taken up with her personal preparations, and also too inexperienced a traveller to be of much help to her fussy chaperone. Fru Bjork was therefore glad to welcome an addition to the party in the shape of a spinster of uncertain age, Estelle Hagerup, who was expected to be the balance-wheel of the expedition.
Fru Boyesen devoted all her energies to getting Ragna ready, and supplied her with an amount of luggage remarkable for its bulk and variety, every possible contingency of sickness and health being provided for. Estelle Hagerup boldly risked the good lady's displeasure by declaring that at least half must be left behind, and herself undertook to separate the sheep from the goats by weeding out all but the indispensable articles. It was the reverse of Penelope's web, for what the uncompromising Estelle undid by day, Fru Boyesen and Ragna restored by stealth at night, and on her next visit, Estelle would find nobby parcels and piles of books more or less skilfully concealed beneath the clothing in the boxes—and the struggle would begin again. Fru Boyesen, having never left her native country, fondly imagined that mustard-plasters, rolls of flannel, bottles of spirit and sundry other necessities would be unobtainable in a strange land. Fröken Hagerup heartlessly rejected all these things, but Fru Boyesen was not to be out-done and the very last day after the boxes were closed and locked, Estelle caught her stuffing two large parcels into the shawl-strap—one containing a goodly provision of soap, the other, two bags, one of flax-seed for poultices, the other of camomile flowers.