"I haven't thought much about it." "If you had money I suppose you'd buy a farm?" "Yes, but keep the mills." "Then it would be better to go to the Agricultural School." "Do they learn as much there as at the Training School?" "No; but they learn that which will afterwards be of use." "Do they get numbers there?" "Why do you ask that?" "I should like to be amongst the first." "You can be that without numbers." They were silent again till they came in sight of the little farm; they could see a light shining from the room; the overhanging mountains looked black in the Winter evening, the lake below was one blank sheet of ice, and the moon reflected the shadow of the pine trees. "It is a beautiful place!" said the schoolmaster. Ovind could sometimes see it with the same eyes as when his mother told him stories, and as when they played with the sledges; this he did now,--all looked pleasing and bright. "Yes, it is beautiful," said he, but sighed. "Your father has found it sufficient; perhaps you might do so too." The happy aspect of the place vanished at once. The schoolmaster stood as if waiting a reply, but getting none he shook his head and went in. He sat awhile with them, but was more silent than talkative. When he said good night, the parents both rose and followed him out, as if expecting that he had something to say. They stood waiting, and looked out upon the night. "It has grown so quiet," said the mother at last, "since the children left off playing here." "You have no longer a child in the house," said the schoolmaster. The mother understood him,--"Ovind has not been happy of late," said she. "No, he who is ambitious is not happy," and he looked up calmly into the quiet heavens. CHAP. VI. NOT QUITE FAIR. Half a year after, in the Autumn, the confirmation being deferred till then, the candidates were all assembled in the school-room for examination, and among them Ovind Pladsen and Marit Heidegaard. Marit had just come down from the pastor, who had given her a book and much praise, and she laughed and talked with her friends on all sides. Marit was now quite grown up, free and easy in her manners, and the boys as well as the girls knew that Jon Hatlen, the first young man in the district was paying attention to her. She might well be glad they thought as she sat there. Close by the door there stood a group of girls and boys who had failed in their examination, and these were crying, while Marit and her friends were laughing. Among them was a little boy in his father's boots and with his mother's church handkerchief,--"Dear, oh dear!" he sobbed, "I daren't go home again." And those who had not yet been called up, were so affected by the power of fellow feeling that it caused a general silence. Fear seized them in the throat and eyes; they could not see clearly, neither could they swallow, though feeling a constant desire to do so.