[CHAPTER VIII]
WHEN at length the day for the dinner could be fixed, it became a busy time for Fru Thora. She managed to get it agreed to, that for once they should try to kindle exhilaration without the aid of strong drink; there should be only home-made wine and milk. To make up for this, she got hold of the best members of the young men’s club, and began to rehearse a play that was to be acted after the dinner. She also intended to decorate the walls of the large town-hall, in which the dinner was to be held, in a way that would form a suitable frame to the guest of honour.
When at last the great day arrived she was both worn-out and nervous; for, as usual when one person is energetic and throws himself heart and soul into a matter, the other members of the dinner-committee had sat down and left everything to her.
In the afternoon of that day she heard that Fru Wangen was still confined to her bed; whereupon Fru Thora very quickly made up her mind that she could not take part in any gaiety that evening without first having inquired about the poor woman. If there was nothing else to be done, she would offer to take her in for a time, and the children with her.
When she came to the little cottage among the fir-trees in which the Wangens had last lived, she found the door locked and the shutters before the windows. An uncomfortable fear made her actually run up to the farm, where she met a girl who was drawing up water from a well.
“Where is Fru Wangen?” she asked.
“She is up in an attic here,” said the girl.
“I suppose I can go up to her?”
The girl shook her head. Fru Wangen would not even speak to the master; and both the priest and the doctor had come to see her, and she would not see either of them.
“Oh, but do go up and tell her it’s me!” said Fru Thora.