Never before had such a thing occurred to Oyvind; never had any one been otherwise than kind to him; never had he been called “youngster” when he wanted to take part; he blushed crimson, but said nothing, and drew back to the place where the new fiddler, who had just arrived, had taken his seat and was tuning his instrument.  There was silence in the crowd, every one was waiting to hear the first vigorous tones from “the chief fiddler.”  He tried his instrument and kept on tuning; this lasted a long time; but finally he began with a spring dance, the boys shouted and leaped, couple after couple coming into the circle.  Oyvind watched Marit dancing with the thick-haired man; she laughed over the man’s shoulder and her white teeth glistened.  Oyvind felt a strange, sharp pain in his heart for the first time in his life.

He looked longer and longer at her, but however it might be, it seemed to him that Marit was now a young maiden.  “It cannot be so, though,” thought he, “for she still takes part with the rest of us in our coasting.”  But grown-up she was, nevertheless, and after the dance was ended, the dark-haired man pulled her down on his lap; she tore herself away, but still she sat down beside him.

Oyvind’s eyes turned to the man, who wore a fine blue broadcloth suit, blue checked shirt, and a soft silk neckerchief; he had a small face, vigorous blue eyes, a laughing, defiant mouth.  He was handsome.  Oyvind looked more and more intently, finally scanned himself also; he had had new trousers for Christmas, which he had taken much delight in, but now he saw that they were only gray wadmal; his jacket was of the same material, but old and dark; his vest, of checked homespun, was also old, and had two bright buttons and a black one.  He glanced around him and it seemed to him that very few were so poorly clad as he.  Marit wore a black, close-fitting dress of a fine material, a silver brooch in her neckerchief and had a folded silk handkerchief in her hand.  On the back of her head was perched a little black silk cap, which was tied under the chin with a broad, striped silk ribbon.  She was fair and had rosy cheeks, and she was laughing; the man was talking to her and was laughing too.  The fiddler started another tune, and the dancing was about to begin again.  A comrade came and sat down beside Oyvind.

“Why are you not dancing, Oyvind? " he asked pleasantly.

“Dear me!” said Oyvind, “I do not look fit.”

“Do not look fit?” cried his comrade; but before he could say more, Oyvind inquired,—­

“Who is that in the blue broadcloth suit, dancing with Marit?”

“That is Jon Hatlen, he who has been away so long at an agricultural school and is now to take the gard.”

At that moment Marit and Jon sat down.

“Who is that boy with light hair sitting yonder by the fiddler, staring at me?” asked Jon.

Then Marit laughed and said,—­