In both floors of the grey wooden house in which Mrs.Holman lived, the small-paned windows stood open, drinking in the slight coolness there was in the air, while the dwellers within went about their occupations more or less lightly clothed.

A faint breath only now and again stirred the half transparent curtains, or the white clothes hanging on lines across the yard.
At the window on the ground floor just above the entrance to the cellar, stood a slender, dark-eyed young girl with turned-up sleeves, busy at the water tap under which she had a wash-tub full of clothes.

Her head could be seen now above, now below the short blind, cooled and refreshed by the cold rush of water.
Suddenly she stopped in surprise.
Nikolai entered with his flat cap pushed triumphantly on one side.
"The world's right enough, I can tell you, Silla.

The only thing is to see that everything is properly in order from the very beginning.

He who hasn't got a father, must be his own father, you know!" "But Nikolai! Did you know mother was out ?" "Pooh! What is there that I don't know! My mother told me just now that it was one of the washing days at Antonisens.