was really because of his annoyance at being unable, by any means,
to screw his brother up to the same pitch of hilarity.

We already know what was oppressing Ola. But even under ordinary
circumstances he was more quiet and retiring than his brother. He
danced "like a pair of nut-crackers," said Hans; he could not sing
at all (Cousin Hans even declared that his speaking voice was
monotonous and unsympathetic); and, in addition to all this, he was
rather absent and ill-at-ease in the society of ladies.

As they approached the Sheriff's house, they heard a carriage
behind them.

"That's the Doctor's people," said Hans, placing himself in
position for bowing; for the beloved one was the daughter of the
district physician.

"Oh, how lovely she is--in light pink!" said Cousin Hans.

Cousin Ola saw at once that the beloved one was in light green; but
he dared not say a word lest he should betray himself by his voice,
for his heart was in his throat.

The carriage passed at full speed; the young men bowed, and the old
Doctor cried out, "Come along!"

"Why, I declare, that was she in light green!" said Cousin Hans; he
had barely had time to transfer his burning glance from the
light-pink frock to the light-green. "But wasn't she lovely, Ola?"