e could neither dance nor
sing, and he was incapable of flirting; he could not even be flirted
with, it put him out so terribly. The consequence was that all the
ladies, even Mary, made love to "the forsaken one," simply to enjoy his
misery.

The originator of most of the mischief that went on was Joergen Thiis;
teasing was his passion. His inventiveness in this domain was not always
free from malice.

At first he himself was unmolested. But in course of time even "the
forsaken one" ventured to attack him. His appetite, his inclination to
tyrannise, and especially his role as Mary's humble servant, were made
subjects of jest. Mary had the Krogs' keen eye for exaggeration in every
shape, so she laughed along with the rest, even when it was at his
submissiveness to her they were laughing. Joergen was not in the least
disturbed. He ate as much as ever, was as strict as ever in his capacity
of leader, and continued, unmoved, to play the part of Mary's inventive,
ever-ready squire.

The ship had its full complement of passengers, amongst them a number of
foreigners; but Joergen Thiis's merry party was the centre of attraction.
Nature made such perpetual calls on the passengers' admiration that they
were not in too close and constant contact with each other. It was as if
they were attending some grand performance. One marvel followed the
other. The length of the days, too, had its influence. Each night was
shorter than the last, until there was none at all. They sailed on into
unquenchable, inextinguishable light, and this produced a kind of
intoxication. They drank, they danced, they sang; they were all equally
highly strung. They proposed things which under other circumstances
would have seemed impossible; here they were in keeping with the
wildness of the landscape, the intoxication of the light. One day in a
strong wind Mary lost her hat; two cavaliers jumped overboard after it.
One of them was, of course, Joergen Thiis. The minds of all were working
at higher pressure than that of every day. Some of them became exhausted
and slept whole days and nights. But most of them held out--at least as
long as they were northward bound--Mary amongst the number.

Joergen Thiis, with his persistent deference, in the end obliged all of
them to treat Mary more or less as he did himself. Nor did anything
occur the whole time to disturb this position of hers--thanks
principally to her own carefully cultivated reserve of manner.

Wh