"'Manly and solemn, let the sound rise!'"

Not a sound had come from the platform till that instant. Then I heard
behind me the click, click, click of Mr. Gorrisen's heels across the
floor and out of the door.

"You'll catch it! oh, you'll catch it, Inger Johanne."

"Oh, I wouldn't be in your shoes for a good deal!"

"Well, it was you who teased me to do it," I said.

"Yes, but to think that you should be so stupid as to do such a thing."

I did really get a little scared, especially because it was so long
before Mr. Gorrisen came back.

"Run away!" said one.

"Hide under your desk," said another.

But there he was in the doorway and the Principal with him.

"What is all this, Inger Johanne?" said the Principal. "You are too big
to be so wild now. You are not such a bad girl, but you are altogether
too thoughtless and use no judgment."

"Yes," I said. I was so glad the Principal didn't scold any harder.

"Of course you will be marked for this in your report-book; and remember
this," the Principal shook his finger at me threateningly, "it won't do
for you to behave like this many times, Inger Johanne. You won't get off
so easily again." But as he went out of the door I saw that he smiled.
Yes, he did, really.

But Mother didn't smile when she saw the marks.

"Are you going to bring sorrow to your father and mother?" she said. And
those beautiful brown eyes of hers looked sad and troubled.

Just think! It had never occurred to me that it would be a sorrow to
Father and Mother for me to sing out loud in class. Oh, I was awfully,
awfully disgusted with myself. I hung around Mother all the afternoon.

First and foremost I must beg Mr. Gorrisen's pardon, Mother said. It
seemed to me I could ask the whole world's pardon if only Mother's eyes
wouldn't look so sorrowful. I wanted very much to go right down to Mr.
Gorrisen's lodgings; but Mother said she thought it was only right that
I should beg his pardon at school, so that all the class should hear. It
was embarrassing, frightfully embarrassing, to ask Mr. Gorrisen's
pardon--but I did it notwithstanding. I said, "Please excuse me for
singing out in class."

"H'm, h'm," said Mr. Gorrisen. "Well, go back now and take your seat."

Since then I have sat like a lamp-post in his classes--yes, I really
have. Many a time I should have liked to have some fun--but then I would
think of Mother's sorrowful eyes and so I have held myself in and kept
from any more