They remained a long time quiet in the passage. The mother had crept up to the corner where the milk-shelf was; Oyvind had assumed his favorite position, that is, he leaned with his back against the large table, with his face toward the door; his father was sitting near him. At length there came a knock at the door, and in stepped the school-master, who drew off his hat, afterward Ole, who pulled off his cap, and then turned to shut the door. It took him a long time to do so; he was evidently embarrassed. Thore rising, asked them to be seated; they sat down, side by side, on the bench in front of the window. Thore took his seat again.
And the wooing proceeded as shall now be told.
The school-master: "We are having fine weather this autumn, after all."
Thore: "It has been mending of late."
"It is likely to remain pleasant, now that the wind is over in that quarter."
"Are you through with your harvesting up yonder?"
"Not yet; Ole Nordistuen here, whom, perhaps, you know, would like very much to have help from you, Oyvind, if there is nothing else in the way."
Oyvind: "If help is desired, I shall do what I can."
"Well, there is no great hurry. The gard is not doing well, he thinks, and he believes what is wanting is the right kind of tillage and superintendence."
Oyvind: "I am so little at home."