"That is the children reading," she answered, and he was much pleased, for that was the way he used to read, before he knew the letters. When he came in, there sat as many children round a table as he had ever seen at church; others were sitting on their luncheon boxes which were ranged round the walls; some stood in small groups round a large printed card; the schoolmaster, an old gray-haired man, was sitting on a stool by the chimney-corner, filling his pipe. They all looked up as Oeyvind and his mother entered, and the mill-hum ceased as if the water had suddenly been turned off. All looked at the new-comers; the mother bowed to the schoolmaster, who returned her greeting. [Illustration: "THE GOAT IS MINE," SHE SAID, AND THREW HER ARMS AROUND ITS NECK] "Here I bring a little boy who wants to learn to read," said his mother. "What is the fellow's name?" said the schoolmaster, diving down into his pouch after tobacco. "Oeyvind," said his mother, "he knows his letters, and can put them together." "Is it possible!" said the schoolmaster, "come here, you Whitehead!" Oeyvind went over to him: the schoolmaster took him on his lap, and raised his cap. "What a nice little boy!" said he, and stroked his hair. Oeyvind looked up into his eyes, and laughed. "Is it at me you are laughing?" asked he, with a frown. "Yes, it is," answered Oeyvind, and roared with laughter. At that the schoolmaster laughed, Oeyvind's mother laughed; the children understood that they also were allowed to laugh, and so they all laughed together. So Oeyvind became one of the scholars. As he was going to find his seat, they all wanted to make room for him. "Now, what are you going to do?" asked the schoolmaster, who was busy with his pipe again. Just as the boy is going to turn round to the schoolmaster, he sees close beside him, sitting down by the hearthstone on a little red painted tub, Marit, of the many names; she had covered her face with both hands, and sat peeping at him through her fingers. "I shall sit here," said Oeyvind, quickly, taking a tub and seating himself at her side. Then she raised a little the arm nearest him, and looked at him from under her elbow; immediately he also hid his face with both hands, and looked at her from under his elbow. So they sat, keeping up the sport, until she laughed, then he laughed too; the children had seen it, and laughed with them; at that, there rung out in a fearfully strong voice, which, however, grew milder at every pause,-- "Silence! you young scoundrels, you rascals, you little good-for-nothings! Keep still, and be good to me, you sugar-pigs."