These mills have always brought in a few shillings during the year; but neither my father nor I have used any of these shillings except while Oyvind was away.

The school-master has managed them, and he says they have prospered well where they are; but now it is best that Oyvind should take them for Nordistuen." The mother stood in a corner, shrinking away into almost nothing, as she gazed with sparkling eyes at Thore, who looked very grave, and had an almost stupid expression on his face.

Ole Nordistuen sat nearly opposite him, with wide-gaping mouth.

Oyvind was the first to rouse from his astonishment, and burst out,-- "Does it not seem as if good luck went with me!" With this he crossed the floor to his father, and gave him a slap on the shoulder that rang through the room.

"You, father!" cried he, and rubbing his hands together he continued his walk.
"How much money might it be ?" finally asked Ole, in a low tone, of the school-master.
"It is not so little." "Some hundreds ?" "Rather more." "Rather more?
Oyvind, rather more! Lord help us, what a gard it will be!" He got up, laughing aloud.
"I must go with you up to Marit," says Oyvind.