soon drew near those who were waiting. Oyvind turned his head and
looked up; he saw the two at the landing-place, and resting his oars,
he shouted,--

"Good-day, mother! Good-day, school-master!"

"What a manly voice he has," said the mother, her face sparkling. "O
dear, O dear! he is as fair as ever," she added.

The school-master drew in the boat. The father laid down his oars,
Oyvind sprang past him and out of the boat, shook hands first with his
mother, then with the school-master. He laughed and laughed again;
and, quite contrary to the custom of peasants, immediately began to
pour out a flood of words about the examination, the journey, the
superintendent's certificate, and good offers; he inquired about the
crops and his acquaintances, all save one. The father had paused to
carry things up from the boat, but, wanting to hear, too, thought they
might remain there for the present, and joined the others. And so they
walked up toward the house, Oyvind laughing and talking, the mother
laughing, too, for she was utterly at a loss to know what to say. The
school-master moved slowly along at Oyvind's side, watching his old
pupil closely; the father walked at a respectful distance. And thus
they reached home. Oyvind was delighted with everything he saw: first
because the house was painted, then because the mill was enlarged, then
because the leaden windows had been taken out in the family-room and in
the bed-chamber, and white glass had taken the place of green, and the
window frames had been made larger. When he entered everything seemed
astonishingly small, and not at all as he remembered it, but very
cheerful. The clock cackled like a fat hen, the carved chairs almost
seemed as if they would speak; he knew every dish on the table spread