Malla Trap crossed the road, making towards the entrance, but meeting a group of young girls who were admiring the illuminations, she stopped to speak to them.
"Well, children, going to the concert?"
"No—o," answered one or two regretfully, curtsying as they spoke. They knew Miss Trap as a sister at the poor school, which most of them had attended.
"Well, come along, and I'll get you in."
The girls followed delightedly, and Malla Trap took tickets for them all.
Across the bridge came Hans Martinsen, with his mother. On reaching the entrance he had to stop and look round, everyone was nodding and waving to him in kindly greeting.
"Good-day, Hans!" came in a fresh young voice behind him. He turned, and saw a girl smiling and nodding. "I'm coming in to hear you play." And she waved a big yellow ticket.
"Why, surely—is it you, Amanda? How are you getting on?"
"Splendid, thanks. This is Carljohan; he's just come back from a voyage."
"And your father and mother? Give them my love, won't you?"