"He has been to one of those Agricultural Schools in the south, hasn't he?" "Yes, something of that kind." "H'm, my girl, my granddaughter, Marit seems to have lost her senses in these latter days." "That's a pity." "She will not marry." "What?" "She won't have any of the fine young men who come to pay their addresses to her." "Indeed?" "And it is his fault, his that stands there." "Indeed?" "He has completely turned her head, that son of yours, Ovind." "Do you say so?" "See now, I don't like that any one should take my horses when I let them go to the mountains; and neither do I like that any one should take my daughters when I let them go to the dance, don't like it at all." "No, of course not." "I cannot go after them, I am old, I cannot take care of them." "No no, no no." "You see I wish to keep order, and when I say a thing must be done, it must, and when I say to her, not him, but him, it must be him, and not him!" "Certainly!" "But it is not so; for three years she has said no, and for three years there hasn't been a good understanding between us. That is not good, and if it is he who is the cause of it, I will only say to him, so that you hear it, you who are his father, that it is no use, he must give up." "Well." Ole looked a minute at Thore, then said, "You give such short answers." "I can't make the sausage longer than it is." Here Ovind must laugh, though in sooth he was in no laughing mood; but with some people laughter and fear go hand in hand. "What are you laughing at?" said Ole sharply. "I?" "Are you laughing at me?" "Heavens preserve me!" but his own reply only made him worse. Ole saw this, and it infuriated him. They would turn the conversation, and begged him to go in, but it was three years' pent up anger that now sought liberty, and it was not to be stayed.