the laughter; suddenly a voice which was frightfully strong, but which
grew milder as it spoke, interposed with,--

"Silence, troll-children, wretches, chatter-boxes!--hush, and be good
to me, sugar-pigs!"

It was the school-master, who had a habit of flaring up, but becoming
good-natured again before he was through. Immediately there was quiet
in the school, until the pepper grinders again began to go; they read
aloud, each from his book; the most delicate trebles piped up, the
rougher voices drumming louder and louder in order to gain the
ascendency, and here and there one chimed in, louder than the others.
In all his life Oyvind had never had such fun.

"Is it always so here?" he whispered to Marit.

"Yes, always," said she.

Later they had to go forward to the school-master and read; a little
boy was afterwards appointed to teach them to read, and then they were
allowed to go and sit quietly down again.

"I have a goat now myself," said Marit.

"Have you?"

"Yes, but it is not as pretty as yours."

"Why do you never come up to the cliff again?"