He had spoken with the voice of a gentleman, almost without the slightest Dalar accent. She did not stop to think about it. She skated quickly towards the shore. She came breathless into the kitchen. She did not know how to say it shortly and quickly enough.
'Miss Stafva, the young master has come home!'
The kitchen was empty; neither the housekeeper nor the servants were there. Nor was there anybody in the housekeeper's room. Ingrid rushed through the whole house, went into rooms where no one ever went. The whole time she cried out, 'Miss Stafva, Miss Stafva! the young master has come home!'
She was quite beside herself, and went on calling out, even when she stood on the landing upstairs, surrounded by the servants, Miss Stafva, and her ladyship herself. She said it over and over again. She was too much excited to stop. They all understood what she meant. They stood there quite as much overcome as she was.
Ingrid turned restlessly from the one to the other. She ought to give explanations and orders, but about what? That she could so lose her presence of mind! She looked wildly questioning at her ladyship.
'What was it I wanted?'
The old lady gave some orders in a low, trembling voice. She almost whispered.
'Light the candles and make a fire in the young master's room. Lay out the young master's clothes.'
It was neither the place nor the time for Miss Stafva to be important. But there was all the same a certain superior ring in her voice as she answered:
'There is always a fire in the young master's room. The young master's clothes are always in readiness for him.'