while the left was firmly pressed against his side when he was not
gesticulating; and this he never did more vigorously than by stretching
the hand half way out and holding it passive a moment, as a guard for
his dignity.

"Is that your son who is standing behind you?" he began, abruptly.

"So they say."

"Oyvind is his name, is it not?"

"Yes; they call him Oyvind."

"He has been at one of those agricultural schools down south, I
believe?"

"There was something of the kind; yes."

"Well, my girl--she--my granddaughter--Marit, you know--she has gone
mad of late."

"That is too bad."

"She refuses to marry."

"Well, really?"

"She will not have any of the gard boys who offer themselves."

"Ah, indeed."

"But people say he is to blame; he who is standing there."

"Is that so?"

"He is said to have turned her head--yes; he there, your son Oyvind."

"The deuce he has!"

"See you, I do not like to have any one take my horses when I let them
loose on the mountains, neither do I choose to have any one take my
daughters when I allow them to go to a dance. I will not have it."

"No, of course not."

"I cannot go with them; I am old, I cannot be forever on the lookout."

"No, no! no, no!"

"Yes, you see, I will have order and propriety; there the block must
stand, and there the axe must lie, and there the knife, and there they
must sweep, and there throw rubbish out,--not outside the door, but
yonder in the corner, just there--yes; and nowhere else. So, when I
say to her: 'not this one but that one!' I expect it to be that one,
and not this one!"

"Certainly."

"But it is not so. For three years she has persisted in thwarting me,
and for three years we have not been happy together. This is bad; and
if he is at the bottom of it, I will tell him so that you may hear it,
you, his father, that it will not do him any good. He may as well give
it up."

"Yes, yes."

Ole looked a moment at Thore, then he said,--

"Your answers are short."

"A sausage is no longer."

Here Oyvind had to laugh, although he was in no mood to do so. But
with daring persons fear always borders on laughter, and now it
inclined to the latter.

"What are you laughing at?" asked Ole, shortly and sharply.

"I?"

"Are you laughing at me?"

"The Lord forbid!" but his own answer increased his desire to laugh.

Ole saw this, and grew absolutely furious. Both Thore and Oyvind tried
to make amends with serious face