Strand stood looking after her, quite unmindful of his feathered patient, which flew chirping about him in the grass. Two hours later Arnfinn found him sitting under the birches with his hands clasped over the top of his head, and his surgical instruments scattered on the ground around him.
“Corpo di Baccho,” exclaimed the student, stooping to pick up the precious tools; “have you been amputating your own head, or is it I who am dreaming?”
“Ah,” murmured Strand, lifting a large, strange gaze upon his friend, “is it you?”
“Who else should it be? I come to call you to breakfast.”
IV.
“I wonder what is up between Strand and Augusta?” said Arnfinn to his cousin Inga. The questioner was lying in the grass at her feet, resting his chin on his palms, and gazing with roguishly tender eyes up into her fresh, blooming face; but Inga, who was reading aloud from “David Copperfield,” and was deep in the matrimonial tribulations of that noble hero, only said “hush,” and continued reading. Arnfinn, after a minute’s silence, repeated his remark, whereupon his fair cousin wrenched his cane out of his hand, and held it threateningly over his head.
“Will you be a good boy and listen?” she exclaimed, playfully emphasizing each word with a light rap on his curly pate.
“Ouch! that hurts,” cried Arnfinn, and dodged.
“It was meant to hurt,” replied Inga, with mock severity, and returned to “Copperfield.”