On the back of her head was perched a little black silk cap,
which was tied under the chin with a broad, striped silk ribbon. She
was fair and had rosy cheeks, and she was laughing; the man was talking
to her and was laughing too. The fiddler started another tune, and the
dancing was about to begin again. A comrade came and sat down beside
Oyvind.
"Why are you not dancing, Oyvind? " he asked pleasantly.
"Dear me!" said Oyvind, "I do not look fit."
"Do not look fit?" cried his comrade; but before he could say more,
Oyvind inquired,--
"Who is that in the blue broadcloth suit, dancing with Marit?"
"That is Jon Hatlen, he who has been away so long at an agricultural
school and is now to take the gard."
At that moment Marit and Jon sat down.
"Who is that boy with light hair sitting yonder by the fiddler, staring
at me?" asked Jon.
Then Marit laughed and said,--
"He is the son of the houseman at Pladsen."
Oyvind had always known that he was a houseman's son; but until now he
had never realized it. It made him feel so very little, smaller than
all the rest; in order to keep up he had to try and think of all that
hitherto had made him happy and proud, from the coasting hill to each
kind word. He thought, too, of his mother and his father, who were now
sitting at home and thinking that he was having a good time, and he
could scarcely hold back his tears.
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