"Amanda! That child! And you let them!" Andrine drew herself up impressively, and Bramsen cowered.
"Don't you forget, Andrine," he said, "we weren't so very old, you and I, when we got spliced together; and he's a first-rate lad. There isn't a knot or a twist he doesn't know, and you should see him up aloft—a cat's not in it. And wrestling too—mark my words, he'll make his way in the world, and I'm sorry for the man that comes athwart him."
"Oh yes, you can talk! But seems to me you've been doing your best to ruin us all while I've been away."
"We're not ruined yet, my girl, nor likely to be, I hope. Just wait and see." And Bramsen patted his wife on the cheek.
Andrine calmed down after a while, and when Amanda came in with steaming coffee and hot cakes, the three sat down in peace and amity, and were soon discussing the excellent qualities of Carljohan and the ship.
"It's been pretty rough these last few days—we'll soon see what she's good for," said Bramsen, thinking of the ship.
"If only they come home safe and sound," sighed Amanda, thinking of Carljohan.
And so, on Sunday morning, behold the three of them walking down to church; neither Bramsen nor Amanda thought of playing truant to-day, so thankful were they to feel that Andrine had "come round" and all was well.
And Bramsen was, to tell the truth, relieved to have got it over. With the bank-book once more in Andrine's care, he felt the responsibility lifted from his shoulders. The reins of government were once more in Andrine's hands, and he had his ten shillings extra per month unbeknown to her as before.
Amanda had always chosen their place in church up in the gallery close to the pulpit. From here one could see the parson turning the leaves of his sermon, and so calculate roughly how far he was from the end. Furthermore, there was the loveliest view over the harbour and the fjord through one of the big windows.