Ovind sat by the window, having been up and given correct answers to everything he had been asked; but neither the pastor nor the schoolmaster had commended him, though for a whole half-year he had been thinking what they both would say when they got to know how hard he had worked, and he felt very much disappointed as well as hurt. There sat Marit, who, for far less labour and knowledge, had received both encouragement and reward. It was just to be great in her eyes he had studied, and now she had reached laughing, the point he had toiled so hard to attain. Her laughter and joking touched him to the quick,--the easiness with which she moved wounded him. He had carefully avoided speaking to her since that evening; years should pass first he thought, but the sight of her now, so bright and lively, pressed him down, and all his proud resolutions hung as wet leaves. He sought little by little to shake it off; much, however, depended on his being Number One to-day, and to know this he waited anxiously. The schoolmaster used to remain a little while with the pastor to consider the order in which the children should stand, and then he would come down and tell them the result; it was certainly not the final decision, but it was what they agreed upon together. The conversation in the room became more and more lively as one after another was examined and passed; but now the ambitious began to separate themselves from those who were merely light-hearted. The latter either went at once to tell their parents and friends of their success, or they waited for their companions who had not yet been called up; the former, on the contrary, became more and more silent, their eyes directed constantly towards the door. At last the young people were all ready, the last had come down, and the schoolmaster was consulting with the pastor. Ovind looked at Marit; she was one of those who had remained, but whether for her own sake or for others he knew not. How beautiful Marit had grown; exquisitely fine was her complexion, he had never seen its equal; her nose was well formed, her mouth smiling. Her eyes were dreamy when she was not directly looking at any one, but therefore her glance came with unexpected power when it did come; and she half smiled in the same, as if to say that she meant nothing by it. Her hair was more dark than light, it was wavy, and she wore long curls, which, together with the dreamy eyes, gave a depth and charm that captivated. One could not be certain who it was that she looked for, as she sat there among them all, nor what she really thought when she turned to any one to speak, for that which she gave she took as quickly back again. Under all this, Jon Hatlen is certainly hidden, thought Ovind, but yet he continued to look at her. Then the schoolmaster came. They all with one accord rushed up to him. "What number am I?" "And I?" "And I, I?" "Silence! uproarious children,---no noise here; be quiet, and then I will tell you."