"Good evening!" replied Eli, blushing crimson, and showing a desire to stop playing, although the boys urged her to continue; but she begged to be excused, and they had to let her go for that evening.
"It seems to me I ought to know you," said Margit.
"That is quite likely," was the reply.
"This surely never can be Eli Böen?"
Yes, it was she.
"Oh, dear me! So you are Eli Böen! Yes, now I see you are like your mother."
Eli's auburn hair had become unfastened, so that it floated carelessly about her; her face was as hot and as red as a berry, her bosom heaved, she could not speak, and laughed because she was so out of breath.
"Yes, that is the way with young people."
Margit looked at Eli with satisfaction as she spoke.
"I suppose you do not know me?"