coasting." But grown-up she was, nevertheless, and after the dance was
ended, the dark-haired man pulled her down on his lap; she tore herself
away, but still she sat down beside him.

Oyvind's eyes turned to the man, who wore a fine blue broadcloth suit,
blue checked shirt, and a soft silk neckerchief; he had a small face,
vigorous blue eyes, a laughing, defiant mouth. He was handsome.
Oyvind looked more and more intently, finally scanned himself also; he
had had new trousers for Christmas, which he had taken much delight in,
but now he saw that they were only gray wadmal; his jacket was of the
same material, but old and dark; his vest, of checked homespun, was
also old, and had two bright buttons and a black one. He glanced
around him and it seemed to him that very few were so poorly clad as
he. Marit wore a black, close-fitting dress of a fine material, a
silver brooch in her neckerchief and had a folded silk handkerchief in
her hand. 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?"