The two years had not greatly altered him, but he seemed more full of life and vigor than before, and success and hope had entirely banished the look of conflict which for so long had been plainly visible in his face. Sigrid felt proud of him as she glanced round; there was something in his mere physical strength which always appealed to her.
“We were just talking about you,” she said, “and wondering when you would be ready to play.”
“After that remark of yours which I overheard I almost think I shall have to eschew tennis,” he said, laughing. “Why should I give a whole hour to it when Herr Sivertsen is impatiently waiting for the next installment?”
“Herr Sivertsen is insatiable,” said Sigrid, taking off her gardening-gloves. “And I’m not going to allow you to return to your old bad ways; as long as you live with me you will have to be something more than a working drudge.”
“Since Sigrid has begun baby’s education,” said Frithiof, turning laughingly to Cecil, “we notice that she has become very dictatorial to the rest of us.”
“You shouldn’t make stage asides in such a loud voice,” said Sigrid, pretending to box his ears. “I am going to meet Roy and to fetch the racquets, and you take him into the garden, Cecil, and make him behave properly.”
“Are you really so specially busy just now?” asked Cecil, as he opened the little gate and joined her; “or was it only your fun?”
“No, it was grim earnest,” he replied. “For since Herr Sivertsen has been so infirm I have had most of his work to do. But it is well-paid work, and a very great help toward the debt fund. In ten years’ time I may be free.”
“You will really have paid off everything?”
“I quite hope to be able to do so.”