hat he would accompany him home. They
walked slowly along. At first Oyvind was silent and his struggle went
on, but gradually he gained his self-control. He was convinced that
what had occurred was the best thing that in any way could have
happened to him; and before he reached home, his belief in this had
become so strong that he gave thanks to his God, and told the
school-master so.

"Yes, now we can think of accomplishing something in life," said the
school-master, "instead of playing blind-man's buff, and chasing after
numbers. What do you say to the seminary?"

"Why, I should like very much to go there."

"Are you thinking of the agricultural school?"

"Yes."

"That is, without doubt, the best; it provides other openings than a
school-master's position."

"But how can I go there? I earnestly desire it, but I have not the
means."

"Be industrious and good, and I dare say the means will be found."

Oyvind felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude. His eyes sparkled,
his breath came lightly, he glowed with that infinite love that bears
us along when we experience some unexpected kindness from a
fellow-creature. At such a moment, we fancy that our whole future will
be like wandering in the fresh mountain air; we are wafted along more
than we walk.

When they reached home both parents were within, and had been sitting
there in quiet expectation, although it was during working hours of a
busy time. The school-master entered first, Oyvind followed; both were
smiling.

"Well?" said the father, laying aside a hymn-book, in which he had just
been reading a "Prayer for a Confirmation Candidate."

His mother stood by the hearth, not daring to say anything; she was
smiling, but her hand was trembling. Evidently she was expecting good
news, but did not wish to betray herself.

"I merely had to come to gladden you with the news, that he answered
every question put to him; and that the priest said, when Oyvind had
left him, that he had never had a more apt scholar."

"Is it possible!" said the mother, much affected.

"Well, that is good," said his father, clearing his throat unsteadily.

After it had been still for some time, the mother asked, softly,--

"What number will he have?"

"Number nine or ten," said the school-master, calmly.

The mother looked at the father; he first at her, then at Oyvind, and
said,--

"A houseman's son can expect no more."

Oyvind returned his gaze. Something rose