One Saturday, at Midsummer, Thore Pladsen rowed over the lake to meet his son, who was coming that afternoon from the Agricultural School. The mother had had a charwoman for two or three days, and everything was made beautifully clean and tidy. Ovind's room had been ready some time, and the stove was set in order. To-day his mother decorated it with green, took the linen up, and made the bed, looking out between times over the water, to see if there was not a boat. The table was ready spread, and yet there was always something to be done,--flies to chase away, or dust, constant dust. Still there was no boat. She seated herself in the window sill and looked out; then she heard footsteps on the other side and turned to see who was there; it was the schoolmaster, who came slowly along leaning upon a stick for his hip was very bad. He stopped a minute to rest, the expressive eyes moved quietly round; he nodded to her: "Not come yet?" "No, I am expecting them every moment." "Good hay weather to-day." "But very hot for old people to be out." The schoolmaster smiled: "Has somebody else been out in the heat to-day?" "Yes, but she's gone again." "Oh! well, may be they'll be meeting somewhere to-night." "I suppose so, but Thore says they shall not meet in his house till the old people give their consent." "Quite right." "They are coming, I do believe!" the mother exclaimed. "Yes, that is them." The schoolmaster came in and rested a little, and then they went down to the lake, while the boat plied quickly along, for both father and son were rowing. When they came near, Ovind turned, rested his oars, and called "Good morning, mother; good morning, schoolmaster!" "What a manly voice," said the mother, "but still the same light hair," she added. Ovind sprang out, and shook hands; he laughed, and so unlike the peasants' way, he at once began to tell them all about the examination, the journey, the principal's testimonial, his prospects, &c.; then he asked about the harvest, and about his friends, all except one. And so they went home, Ovind laughing and talking; the mother smiling, not knowing exactly what to say; the schoolmaster and the father listening. Ovind was pleased with everything he saw,--first, that the house was painted; then, that the mill was enlarged; then, that the lead windows were taken out of the parlour, and white glass put instead of green. When they came in, everything looked so exceedingly small, so different from what he had remembered it; but so cheerful, and all looked so inviting. They seated themselves at the table, but there was not much eaten, for Ovind was constantly talking. Once when he was telling them a long story about one of his schoolfellows, and there came a moment's pause, his father said, "I can scarcely understand a single word of what you say, lad, you speak so exceedingly quick." They all laughed, and Ovind not the least; he knew it was true, but he seemed as though he could not help it.