This was the way in which Ovind entered the school.
When he had to take his seat each one wanted to make room for him, but he stood looking round and round, from side to side, with his cap in his hand and his book under his arm, while they whispered and pointed.
"What then?" said the schoolmaster, and he took his pipe again.
As the boy turned round to the schoolmaster he caught sight of Marit with the many names, sitting on a little red painted box in the chimney corner: she hid her face in both her hands and sat and peeped at him.
"I'll sit here!" said Ovind quickly, hopped across the room, and set himself down by her side. Now she lifted her arm and looked at him from under her elbows; then he did the same. This went on till they all laughed again.
"Be quiet, you naughty, troublesome, giggling gewgaws!--Come be good little children now!"
It was the voice of the schoolmaster, who, if he stormed, was sure to be calm before he finished.
The children were soon quiet again, until each began to con his lesson aloud. Then the treble voices sounded high, while the bass drummed louder and louder to overpower them, and one and another chimed in between, till Ovind thought he had never had such fun in all his days.
"Is it always like this?" he whispered to Marit.
"Yes, it's always like this," she said.