here is a
little girl here who is soon to leave us," everything seemed perfectly
horrid all at once.

Just think, to leave the school and my friends, and the town, and
everything, and never, never come back!

I laid my head down on the desk and cried, and cried, and couldn't stop.
I had thought only of all the new things I was going to, and not that I
should never in the world live here again,--here where I had been so
happy.

O dear! if we were only not going, if we were just to stay here all our
lives. At last the Principal came down and patted me on the head, and
then I cried all the more.

When I got home they could hardly see my eyes, I had cried so.

"Now you see, Inger Johanne, it's not all pleasure, either," said
Mother.

The last day, I ran up on the hill, and said good-bye to all the places
where we used to play, to Rome and Japan, to Kongsberg and the North
Cape,--for we had given names to some of them.

"Good-bye!" I shouted across the rocks and the heather and the juniper,
"Good-bye!" I ran and ran, for I wanted to see all the places where we
had played, before I went away forever. At home, on the outside wall of
our old house, I wrote in pencil, "Good-bye, my beloved home!"

But I didn't cry, except that time at school.

At the steamboat-wharf, when we were leaving, it was only fun. The wharf
was packed full of people, and they all wanted to talk to us and shake
hands, and they gave Mother bouquets and gave me bouquets; and there
was such a crowd and bustle and talk and noise before all our things
were finally on board! Only one thing was horrid, and that was that
Ingeborg the maid cried so sorrowfully. She was not going with us; she
stood on the wharf by herself and cried and cried.

"Don't cry, Ingeborg; you must come and visit us--yes, you must, you
must; don't cry!"

"I can't do anything else," said Ingeborg, sobbing aloud.

Now I had to go on board and the steamboat started.

"Good-bye, good-bye"--I ran to the very stern right by the flag, and
waved and waved. I could see Massa and Mina on the wharf all the way to
where we swung around the islands.

I stood staring back at the town.

Now Peckell's big yellow house vanished, and now the custom-house; now I
could see nothing but the little red house high up on the hill; and at
last that vanished too.

But I still stood there, looking back and looking back at the gray
hills. Among them I had lived my whole life long!

*