"I merely had to come to gladden you with the news, that he answered
every question put to him; and that the priest said, when Oyvind had
left him, that he had never had a more apt scholar."
"Is it possible!" said the mother, much affected.
"Well, that is good," said his father, clearing his throat unsteadily.
After it had been still for some time, the mother asked, softly,--
"What number will he have?"
"Number nine or ten," said the school-master, calmly.
The mother looked at the father; he first at her, then at Oyvind, and
said,--
"A houseman's son can expect no more."
Oyvind returned his gaze. Something rose up in his throat once more,
but he hastily forced himself to think of things that he loved, one by
one, until it was choked down again.
"Now I had better go," said the school-master, and nodding, turned
away.
Both parents followed him as usual out on the door-step; here the
school-master took a quid of tobacco, and smiling said,--
"He will be number one, after all; but it is not worth while that he
should know anything about it until the day comes."
"No, no," said the father, and nodded.
"No, no," said the mother, and she nodded too; after which she grasped
the school-master's hand and added: "We thank you for all you do for
him."
"Yes, you have our thanks," said the father, and the school-master
moved away.
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