"From the wood."

"What were you doing there?"

"Plucking berries."

"That is not true."

"No; neither is it."

"What were you doing, then?"

"I was talking with some one."

"Was it with the Pladsen boy?"

"Yes."

"Hear me now, Marit; to-morrow you leave home."

"No."

"Listen to me, Marit; I have but one single thing to say, only one: you
_shall_ go."

"You cannot lift me into the carriage."

"Indeed? Can I not?"

"No; because you will not."