After supper Oscar said, "Godfather, I wish you would permit me to alter the arrangement of last evening."
"You want to go back to Easter, eh?" said the Factor.
"No, sir, to come on to Christmas," said Oscar, and then he gave his reasons. Thora was looking pale--everybody thought so--she wanted a change--he would like to take her to England, perhaps to France, and even to Italy. They might stay away during the months of spring and come back for the first of summer, when Althing would open its session, and by that time Thora would be well, and he himself would be ready to set to work in earnest.
"But Christmas, my gracious!" cried Aunt Margret, "hardly time for the banns! And what about Thora's wedding-dress?"
But Thora herself was in raptures, and Aunt Margret's objections were borne down.
"Christmas let it be then," said the Factor, whereupon Thora gave a cry of joy, and Helga, whose eyes had passed with a quick glance from face to face, while her own grew paler and paler, leapt up, saying:
"And now let us have a dance to celebrate the happy event!"
"No, no, no," said Oscar.
"Yes, yes," said Helga, and sitting down to the piano she played a dance tune with a rapid and passionate touch. "Make him dance, Thora," she cried with an awful brightness in her eyes.
Thora took hold of Oscar and dragged him to his feet, saying laughingly, "Why not, Oscar?"