"I could sing as finely as I could dance the Halling," he said to Knutty, with a grim smile.
"Thou shouldst have heard me sing," said Bedstemor to Knutty. "I had a beautiful voice."
"And so had I," said the pocket edition of Bedstemor, clutching at Knutty's dress.
"Yes," answered Knutty sympathetically, "I can well believe it."
And she added to herself:
"We all had a voice, or think we had. It amounts to the same when the past is past. A most convenient thing, that past—that kind of past which only crops up when you want it!"
Then Gerda sang:
"Come haul the water, haul the wood."
This time the audience which, unbeknown to Gerda, had grown to large proportions, joined in lustily, led by Bedstemor's cracked old voice. She beat time, too, still playing the rôle of leading lady. Katharine, sitting by Gerda's side, but a little in front of the piano, saw that the hall was full of eager listeners, and that at the back of the guests were the servants of the Gaard, including Thea and the dramatic Mette, and some of the cotters, and old Kari. The music which they knew and loved had gathered them all together from courtyard, kitchen, and cowhouse. There was no listlessness on any face now: an unwilling animation, born of real pleasure, lit up the countenances of both men and women—an animation all the more interesting, so Katharine thought, because of its reluctance and shyness. It reminded her of Alan's shyness, of Clifford's too; she remembered that Clifford had said to her several times: