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"Yes; unless he should take it into his head to go on to Bamble to see Farmer Helmboe." "And his daughter Siegfrid." "Yes. Siegfrid, my best friend, whom I love like a sister!" replied the young girl, smiling. "All, well, Hulda, shut up the house, and let's go to bed." "You are not ill, are you, mother?" "No; but I want to be up bright and early to-morrow morning. I must go to Moel." "What for?"
Neither Siegfrid nor her father would allow their friends to depart without accepting the invitation, but it would not do for them to tarry too long if they wished to make up for the time lost by coming around by the way of Bamble, so at nine o'clock the horses were put to the carriage.
And the good man shook the hand of his hostess most cordially. "Wouldn't you like my brother to fetch a doctor from Bamble?" inquired Hulda. "A doctor! my little Hulda! Why! do you want me to lose the use of both my legs?" "Oh, Mr. Sylvius!" "A doctor! Why not send for my friend, the famous Doctor Bork, of Christiania? All this ado about a mere scratch, what nonsense!"
How strange it is that she can not understand that her children were born to sympathize with her." "She will find it out some day, Joel." "Yes; so let us wait patiently, little sister. Still, there is no reason why I should not try to find out who the man is. Perhaps Farmer Helmboe knows him. I will ask him the first time I go to Bamble, and if need be I will push on to Drammen.
The last weeks of April and the first weeks of May were devoted to these matters. Joel assumed charge of the invitations, taking advantage of the fact that his vocation of guide gave him considerable leisure at this season of the year. One would have supposed that he had a large number of friends in Bamble, for he went there very often.
In those days this was the only mode of travel in vogue throughout Central Norway, and through the Telemark in particular, and perhaps modern railroads have already caused the tourist to think with regret of the national kariol and Mr. Benett's comfortable carriages. It is needless to say that Joel was well acquainted with this region, having traversed it repeatedly on his way from Dal to Bamble.
Yet a great painted desk in the room contained, amid many flourishes, the names and character of the host and hostess, as follows: "Andres Svennogsen Bamble, and Ragnil Thorkilsdatter Bamble, Which These Two Are Respectable People." Over the cupboard, studded with earthen-ware dishes, was an inscription in misspelt Latin: "Solli Deo Glorria."
Tinoset is situated near the end of Lake Tinn, and here the Maan plunges majestically into the valley below, where it resumes its former course. The horses being already harnessed to the carriage, our friends immediately started in the direction of Bamble.
"I know another and even more agreeable route that prolongs the journey only a few hours, and you, too, are familiar with it, my boy, though you failed to mention it." "What route do you refer to?" "To the one that passes through Bamble." "Through Bamble?" "Yes, through Bamble. Don't feign ignorance. Yes, through Bamble, where Farmer Helmboe and his daughter Siegfrid reside." "Monsieur Sylvius!"
"And the bride-maid has been chosen from among the sweetest maidens of the Telemark?" "And the fairest, Mister Sylvius," added Joel, "for it is Mademoiselle Siegfrid of Bamble."
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