One fine afternoon early in spring, Per lay waiting with his boat off the point of the Mole.  Silly Hans was not with him, for both he and Madeleine had agreed that it was not necessary when they were going only for a row; and to-day all there was to do was to provide the lobster-pots with fresh bait for the night.

One after another the fishermen rowed out through the narrow entrance.  Each one had some mischievous joke to throw on board Per’s boat, and more than once the annoying “Wait” was heard.  He began to lose his temper as he lay on his oars, gazing expectantly up at the lighthouse.

But there all was still.  The solid little building looked so quiet and well cared for in the bright sunshine, which shone on the polished window-panes and on the bright red top of the lantern, where he could see the lamp-trimmer going round on his little gallery, polishing the prisms.

At last, after what seemed endless waiting, she came out on to the steps, and in another moment she was across the yard, over the enclosure which belonged to the lighthouse, out through the little gate in the fence, and now she came in full career down the slope.  “Have you been waiting?” she cried, as she came on to the extreme point of the breakwater.  He was just going to tell her not to jump, but it was too late; without lessening her speed, she had already sprung from the pier down into the boat.  Her feet slipped from her, and she fell in a sitting posture on the bottom of the boat, while part of her dress hung in the water.

“Bother the women!” cried Per, who had told her at least a hundred times not to jump; “now you have hurt yourself.”

“No,” answered she.

“Yes, you have.”

“Well, just a little,” she replied, looking stubbornly at him as the tears came into her eyes; for she really had bruised her leg severely.

“Let me see,” said Per.

“No, you shan’t!” she answered, arranging her dress over her.

Per began to make for the shore.

“What are you going to do?”

“Going to get some brandy to rub your foot.”

“That you certainly shan’t.”

“Well, then, you shan’t go with me,” answered Per.

“Very well, then; let me get out.”

And before the boat quite touched the ground, she sprang on to the shore, climbed on to the breakwater, and went hurriedly off homewards.  She clenched her teeth with the pain as she went, but still without raising her eyes from the ground she followed the well-known path.  As she passed in front of the boat-houses, she had to step over oars, tar-barrels, old swabs, and all sorts of rubbish, which was scattered among the boats.  All around lay the claws of crabs and the half-decayed heads of codfish, in which the gorged and sleepy flies were crawling in and out of the eye-sockets.