But the school-master soon noticed that this was not the old Oyvind who
read because it was his turn, and played because it was a necessity.
He often talked with him, coaxed and admonished him; but he did not
succeed in finding his way to the boy's heart so easily as in days of
old. He spoke also with the parents, the result of the conference
being that he came down one Sunday evening, late in the winter, and
said, after he had sat a while,--

"Come now, Oyvind, let us go out; I want to have a talk with you."

Oyvind put on his things and went with him. They wended their way up
toward the Heidegards; a brisk conversation was kept up, but about
nothing in particular; when they drew near the gards the school-master
turned aside in the direction of one that lay in the centre, and when
they had advanced a little farther, shouting and merriment met them.

"What is going on here?" asked Oyvind.

"There is a dance here," said the school-master; "shall we not go in?"

"No."

"Will you not take part in a dance, boy?"

"No; not yet."

"Not yet? When, then?"

Oyvind did not answer.