"It's no use," she said. "I'm losing her, and I don't know what they'll do with my precious now."
"Nonsense, Margret," said the Factor. "Oscar will take care of her."
"He'd better, or I'll murder him," said Aunt Margret; and the idea of Aunt Margret murdering anybody was so amusing to the company that they broke up merrily.
The Factor's family went to the door to see them off, and Helga, who was hot with dancing and excitement, but wore no wraps, stood on the top of the steps holding a lamp above her head to light them down the road. It was a paraffin lamp with a glass reservoir, but she paid no heed to any warning.
"Take care, Helga, do take care," said Oscar, but she only cried:
"Good night, pleasant dreams!" and continued to wave the flickering lamp above her head.
"Helga, for mercy's sake, Helga!" shouted Oscar, and Thora said:
"Yes, dear, don't let us have an accident on our wedding-day."
"The better the day the better the deed," cried Helga, and she sent a ringing, hysterical laugh after them as they disappeared in the darkness.
The wedding party went off in two batches, Oscar in the midst of the young men, whose arms were round his shoulders, and Thora in the midst of the young women, who were holding her by the waist and stopping at intervals to whisper mischievous messages in her ears. The crisp snow crackled under their feet, and the starry sky, with its northern lights, pulsed and throbbed like the hearts in their bosoms.