Now he was smiling all over his face. He pushed his way eagerly into the elder-bush. But at the same moment he felt her clenched fist strike his face. She laughed crazily, but he stood fixed in the same position, as though stunned, his mouth held forward as if still awaiting a kiss. “Why do you hit me?” he asked, gazing at her brokenly.
“Because I can’t endure you! You’re a perfect oaf, and so ugly and so common!”
“I have never done anything to you!”
“No? Anyhow, you richly deserved it! What did you want to kiss me for?”
Pelle stood there helplessly stammering. The whole world of his experience collapsed under him. “But I didn’t!” he at last brought out; he looked extraordinarily foolish. Manna aped his expression. “Ugh! Bugh! Take care, or you’ll freeze to the ground and turn into a lamp-post! There’s nothing on the hedge here that will throw light on your understanding!”
With a leap Pelle was over the hedge. Manna took him hastily by the hand and drew him through the bushes. “Aina and Dolores will be here directly. Then we’ll play,” she declared.
“I thought they couldn’t come out in the evenings any more,” said Pelle, obediently allowing her to lead him. She made no reply, but looked about her as though she wanted to treat him to something as in the old days. In her need she stripped a handful of leaves off the currant-boughs, and stuffed them into his mouth. “There, take that and hold your mouth!” She was quite the old Manna once more, and Pelle laughed.
They had come to the summer-house. Manna cooled his swollen cheeks with wet earth while they waited.
“Did it hurt you much?” she asked sympathetically, putting her arm about his shoulder.
“It’s nothing. What’s a box on the ear?” he said manfully.