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When he repeated that they saved money by it, she replied that she for her part required no more than one room, and was quite able to pay for it. He joked again, whimpered, "Ingeborg!" and left her. He was beaten, and his back was bent. She ate alone that evening. "Isn't your husband coming in?" asked the woman of the house. "Perhaps he doesn't want anything," she replied.
"Ingeborg," the carpenter was probably thinking. "Miss Torsen," he was thinking. "How long will you be in the town?" she asked, getting up. "Oh, I'll be there some time." "What are you doing there?" He was a little embarrassed, and since his skin was so fair, she could see at once that he reddened. He bent forward, planting his elbows on his knees before he replied.
The Open-Air Museum at Lyngby, with its ancient farm and peasant buildings, the interiors of which are fitted up just as they used to be, gave Ingeborg a peep into the past and old-time Denmark. Here she saw a curious rolling-pin hanging in the ingle-nook of the farmhouse from the village of Ostenfeld. This wooden pin, so her grandfather told her, was a Clogg Almanac or Runic Calendar.
"Miss Ingeborg!" It was the first time I called her this. And I moved my hand toward her slightly, longing to touch her, perhaps to fondle her I don't know But she had collected herself now, and stood erect and hard. Her eyes had grown cold; they looked at me, putting me in my place again, as she walked toward the door. A cry of "No!" escaped me. "What's the matter?" she asked.
Beside him sat a tall, thin woman, who was talking so fast and excitedly that the words fairly spurted out of her mouth; she shook her head and snapped her eyes, her body bending forward all the while so that by the time she had finished speaking her face was on a level with the ground. Engineer Boraeus immediately recognized the woman as Mad Ingeborg.
Ingeborg ought to come now, ought to notice that he was gone, follow him secretly, lay her hand on his shoulder and say: Come in and join us. Be happy! I love you ... But she came not at all. Such things did not happen. Yes, it was just like those days, and he was happy as in those days. For his heart was alive. But what had there been during all the time in which he had become what he now was?
Ingeborg's earliest musical impressions came from the violin playing of her mother, done wholly by ear, from her father's flute playing, and from the singing of the touching Swedish folk songs by the housekeeper. When her elder sister began regular study, Ingeborg was considered too young for it, but begged so hard that she was allowed to take lessons too.
The flutist Olaf Svenssen and the vocal artists Thorvald Lammers, Ingeborg Oselio-Björnson, and Ellen Gulbranson, have also brought distinction to their country. The male choirs of Norway have always played a leading rôle in the music life of the nation.
Alric's wife, a daughter of Glumm, was with the young people on the lawn, and his six riotous children were among the chief tormentors of old Haldor. Ingeborg was there too, sharp as ever, but not quite so sour. She was not a spinster. There were few spinsters in those days! She had married a man of the neighbouring valley, whom she loved to distraction, and whom she led the life of a dog!
"No, I don't know as I believe just that," answered the cousin, dropping her eyes; "but I suppose that then you had a pretty vision, and have carried it along with you in silence and with faith." "But it was something more than a vision; it was a letter a love- letter." The cousin looked upon Ingeborg so inquiringly, so anxiously, that words were unnecessary.
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