The wind howled outside. It sounded like a pack of hungry wolves. Greta turned on the radio, but Fru Hansson made her switch it off.
She said, "You know that every sound disturbs the Baron."
Just then there came a terrific crash. Tiles were torn from the roof. The wind was trying to scalp the head of Hanssonborg.
"We cannot keep this house standing another winter without repairs," sighed Fru Hansson. Then she sat up straighter, and Greta could see the question forming on her lips. "When are you going to set your wedding day?"
Greta suddenly stood up. Her lovely face was flushed with anger.
"You cannot force me to marry a coward," she told her mother.
Fru Hansson stiffened. "But the Baron is not a coward," she said. "In his family are men of valor, as brave and strong as those in our own."
Greta laughed. "You surely do not call Baron Karl brave and strong!" she said scornfully.
"Perhaps not strong," replied her mother. "His health is poor—for which he is not to blame. But I am sure he is no coward. If he were, you know well that I would never ask you to marry him!"
Greta knew. She knew that Fru Hansson, fearless and proud, loathed cowards.