The bedroom had been put in order some time before, a stove had
been set up, and there Oyvind was to be. To-day the mother carried in
fresh greens, laid out clean linen, made up the bed, and all the while
kept looking out to see if, perchance, any boat were coming across the
lake. A plentiful table was spread in the house, and there was always
something wanting, or flies to chase away, and the bedroom was
dusty,--continually dusty. Still no boat came. The mother leaned
against the window and looked across the waters; then she heard a step
near at hand on the road, and turned her head. It was the school-
master, who was coming slowly down the hill, supporting himself on a
staff, for his hip troubled him. His intelligent eyes looked calm. He
paused to rest, and nodded to her:--
"Not come yet?"
"No; I expect them every moment."
"Fine weather for haymaking, to-day."
"But warm for old folks to be walking."
The school-master looked at her, smiling,--
"Have any young folks been out to-day?"
"Yes; but are gone again."
"Yes, yes, to be sure; there will most likely be a meeting somewhere
this evening."
"I presume there will be. Thore says they shall not meet in his house
until they have the old man's consent."
"Right, quite right."
Presently the mother cried,--
"There! I think they are coming."
The school-master looked long in the distance.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90