Fru Raklitz was so shaken from fright that Lisa Maja had to talk to her as to a little child, to get her to her room and to bed. She would not let her go; so the girl had to sit there holding her hand, and listen to her ravings until daybreak.
From that time forth Fru Raklitz never dared be cruel to her stepdaughter; nor was she ever again her old ruthless self. She kept to her room mostly, and let Lisa Maja run the house. She would lend a hand when there was extra cleaning and furbishing to be done—as before a great holiday or a party—but only in the house, never outside it. Thus she lived until 1835. Whether she had ever any real affection for the stepdaughter is doubtful. But when Lisa Maja was married, and the little ones came, she grew very fond of them. Every day the children would go in to see Granny. She was also very fond of her coffee, and always had a fire going in the tile-stove of her room, so that she could make coffee for herself. She would often treat the children. But their mother thought coffee was not good for little folk, and told them one day they must never drink any of Granny’s coffee.
The next day, when the two youngest, Nana and Lovisa, came out of the grandmother’s room, there was a strong odour of coffee about them.
“What did you have at Granny’s to-day?” their mother asked them.
“Gruel, Mummie dear,” said the two of them as with one mouth.
“What was that gruel made in?” questioned the mother.
“In the coffeepot, Mummie dear,” they answered as if they were speaking a piece.
They said it so nicely and they were so little and naïve, that the mother had to laugh in spite of herself.