"Wonderful, how quiet he is now," thought the father, as he came forward and pointed with his whip. The boy was to walk in front of him up to the broad stone step at the entrance in the middle of the house.

And he did so. Past a sledge with railed-in seat that was standing there; he discovered two kittens playing with each other through the railing, the one inside, the other outside. The windows they went past were so low that they could see right through the little room which had windows on the other side, and through that again into the other room.

There sat Ole in a huge shirt that reached down to his feet, in front of the hearth with his legs up; his mother stood beside him, bending over some pots and pans. Edward had not time to see more; he stepped over the stone and into the pa.s.sage, where he was met by a strong smell of fish, both old and new; also a smell of something else which he could not at first make out. The father pointed on to the right; to the left, too, there was a door, grandly painted and with a bra.s.s handle, and he was not meant to go there. No, thought the boy, I knew that much, too, that we were to go where there are people, and not into the cold guest room. He put his swollen fingers on the latch and lifted it.

The fireplace was in the corner to the left, close by the door, and one can fancy how the two in there opened their eyes! To such an extent that curly-lock's head stretched up out of his father's wide blue linen shirt. The mother was tall and had a delicate face; she wore a black cap; her fair hair was puffed out down her cheeks and made her face seem long. She turned from her pots and pans toward the two arrivals, whom she knew both. It was a grave but friendly face. She seemed afraid and uncertain. Just at first she did not let her eyes rest on either of them. Ole's boots stood by the fireside; but his clothes, shirt, and stockings were hung up to dry above on some of the many poles that reached across from beam to beam. On the other poles were bundles of wood and various things put up to dry. Dishes and cups stood about just as usual on a weekday.

The room was not painted but wainscoted; on each side under the windows there were red-painted benches. In the corner to the left, at the other side of the window, stood a table with a bookcase above; at the end of the table, just by the door into the smaller room, hung the clock. It ticked as evenly and cheerily as if there had never before been anything but peace in that room. Outside he saw the kittens in the sledge, the one inside sticking its paw out through the railing, and the outside one pushing its paw in; and then he saw Ole's face just in front of him. He was smiling, was Ole, and it was because he too was afraid. But those pots and pans! Hungry and tired as Edward was, the pots seemed to him the best part of it all. There were potatoes in the one which stood down, quite ready; but two pots still hung over the fire; could it be fish in one of them? But in the other?

The mother hesitated, not knowing what to do; for they remained standing there, the angry looking man and the boy. At last just as she was going to ask them to sit down, or something similar, the father began. He presumed that she knew now what had happened, hey? The boy had come to beg pardon and to receive his punishment; it was quite necessary, for he was a bad boy and nothing but punishing did him any good; kindness was utterly wasted on him.

"Oh, must it be?" said the mother, mildly. She was quite frightened, and Ole turned a bluish-white, like the shirt he had on.

"Yes, he must have a beating! Beg pardon first. Sharp's the word?"

Ole began to cry, not so Edward. Ole could not sit still; he got up, he looked at his mother: "Mother, dear!" said he. He could not get out another word; but his meaning was evident, his mother was to make peace between them.

"Beg pardon!" shouted the father, and the whip became restless.

"But, mother dear!" shrieked Ole.

Then Edward had to come forward. Ole turned away; he could not look on any longer, he was not used to that sort of thing. Edward dived and ducked, his father after him with clanking spurs. In his fright Edward rushed to Ole's mother with outstretched hand; she did not take it, but Ole began to yell. So much sympathy was too much for poor Edward; he too began to roar, as he dashed round and round the mother. There was such a hubbub and noise that again the goats stopped their munching and stared in, listening; the sparrows too, which had come back, flew away over the roof.

And what happened? The sparrows showed the boy the way. Quick as lightning, he flew past his father and out at the door, which he left wide open behind him. They saw the goats fly on all sides, and the boy into the scaffolding, up the ladder, and on to the roof. Directly he got there he began to pull the ladder up after him.

"Look at him! Look at him!" screamed his father from the window. "Hey!"

and away he rushed.

As soon as his son saw him coming he dropped the ladder which fell thundering down. Like a cat the lad ran up the rafters to the ridge of the roof and along that, balancing himself as though he had never done anything else all his life. He thought no more of his aching feet.

His father was in great alarm: "Take care, I say, take care there, take care! Come away from there, and at _once!_ Come down, you young wretch!" He ran out into the yard in his long riding-boots and threatened him with the whip.

"I think I see myself! I shall jump right down into the yard!"

"Mad boy! Devil take him! Will you come down?"

"Yes if you'll not beat me!"

"I won't promise."

"Oh, you won't promise?" and away crept the boy farther out along the ridge.

"Yes, yes! O you wretch! O you coward!"

"Well, have you promised?"

"Devil take your promising. Come down, can't you!"

"And you won't pull my hair either?"

"Down with you! You'll only fall up there!"

"You won't pull my hair and won't beat me, and won't do anything?"

"No, no, no! But come down directly! Look, now you're slipping! Edward, do you hear?" shouted he.

"Well, will you keep to what you promise?"

"Oh! what don't you deserve!" and he threatened up with his whip. "Yes, yes, I promise! But take care!"

But the boy went on: "May I stay here till tomorrow with Ole? May I?"

"I won't answer anything till you come down."

"Oh, you won't? all right!"

"Oh you scoundrel; oh, you miserable rascal!"

"Do you agree, then?"

"Yes, deuce take you! But get away from the outer edge at least! Devil take the boy!"

"I say, it might be just as well if you went away first father."

"Not I; you'll not get me to do that. Never. I must see you down first."

The boy thought this just as well. His father put up the ladder and slowly the lad came down; but not until his father had gone a little way back into the yard. And he kept his distance, although his father wished to speak to him and a.s.sured him he would not harm him. Neither would he go into the house as long as his father stayed there; but being wet through, obliged his father to go away.

Five or six minutes after both lads lay kicking on the floor, Edward in just as big a shirt as Ole's and equally naked otherwise; they were both going to put on a pair of thick woollen stockings, of the kind the peasants use that come well up over the thighs. They had thought it easier to try and put them on sitting on the floor, which was strewn with sand. There they pushed each other over and laughed as though many days had gone by since _that_ happened which we have just witnessed.

Everything Edward did Ole did after him; they laughed until at last the quiet, gentle mother was obliged to laugh too; there was no end to all that Edward hit upon. They were to put on those long stockings so that they might sit at table and eat their dinner without feeling too cold; at table there was no fireplace for their legs. And at last they were so far ready they got them on. And then was disclosed the contents of the other pot; it was cream porridge. Edward had never tasted that before. Ole was to be coaxed into better spirits than he was in when he arrived, therefore his mother had made that porridge for him. Edward applauded loudly and greeted the food with laughter.

But all at once Ole sat quite solemn and quiet. What now? Hands folded, eyes cast down? The mother stood before them; she too was serious with folded hands and cast-down eyes. Her face was bent down, it seemed to be vanishing gradually farther and farther, or rather it was as if shutters were put up before and all light in it extinguished. And then she began, as though from afar, a long, long grace, in a low monotonous voice, as if she were talking quietly with someone but at some other place. Edward felt himself out of it all. His loneliness and fright came back again, the old recollections and the old longing for his mother. Then it pa.s.sed away, pushed back like a shutter; it all vanished behind the hill.

Edward had never before been present when grace was said at meals, and her manner and ways were so altogether new to him, and he did not understand her and her mumbling. He sat very quiet for some time after.

Ole did not speak either; all the time while they were dining he was very silent and hardly even smiled. Food was G.o.d's gift; a certain solemnity was therefore necessary.

But what a serious matter their eating was! The mother asked them at last if they did not think it would be best to keep a little till the evening? No, they said, this was dinner and supper in one. They were to sleep together in the servant's room, which was used as a spare room; the fire had been lighted there, and now they would sit by the fireside for an hour or so and then go to bed.

The mother saw they would rather be alone, so she left them.

Then afterward when they were in the bedroom! At first the most terrific row; the bed-clothes and featherbeds flew about them; then they grew calmer after each attack, and at last they began to talk. Ole told how the boys had treated him and Edward promised that he would give that boy such a thrashing--yes, even if it were Anders Hegge himself--if he would not hold his tongue about the "ways of G.o.d," and all that, Edward would give him a proper kind of beating. Anders Hegge was a coward. He knew who he would get to help him; they would have such fun!

As they grew more tired they became sentimental. Ole spoke of Josephine and Edward joined in and a.s.sured him that she had behaved splendidly that day. He described her as she came rowing out in search of him. Ole thought this grand. Certainly there was something great about Josephine; they both agreed as to that.

Edward could not understand why Ole should wish to be a missionary? Why on earth was it such an excellent thing to go off on wild adventures when one had enough to do here at home? Ole should be a clergyman and he would be a doctor, and they would both live together in the same town; would not that be much nicer?

And Edward went on drawing pictures of their future life. They were to live next door to each other and be often together; in the evenings particularly, with their gla.s.s of punch, just as his father and the apothecary were and play chess together as those two did. And they would have a carriage for high days and holidays, and each harness his own horse to it and drive out together; it would be more sociable like that. Or else they would live by the sea-side and have a big boat between them; everything must be between them.

In Ole's fancy Josephine was to be always with them, though Edward did not actually say as much. But it was clear that she was to be with them. And Ole thought this showed so much tact on Edward's part and was very grateful to him; indeed it quite decided him. Josephine was to be the clergyman's wife and manage everything in the house.