also took his leave. Cousin Hans, on the other hand, was detained by the Sheriff, who was anxious to learn under what teachers he had studied music; and that took time.
Thus it happened that Ola and the fair one in the light green passed out into the passage at the same time. There the young folks were crowding round the hat-pegs, some to find their own wraps, some to take down other people's.
"I suppose it's no good trying to push our way forward," said the fair one.
Ola's windpipe contracted in such a vexatious way that he only succeeded in uttering a meaningless sound. They stood close to each other in the crush, and Ola would gladly have given a finger to be able to say something pleasant to her, or at least something rational; but he found it quite impossible.
"Of course you've enjoyed the evening?" said she, in a friendly tone.
Cousin Ola thought of the pitiful part he had been playing all the evening; his unsociableness weighed so much upon his mind that he answered—the very stupidest thing he could have answered, he thought, the moment the words were out of his lips — "I'm so sorry that I can't sing."
"I suppose it's a family failing," answered the fair one, with a rapid glance.
"N—n—no," said Ola, exceedingly put out, "my brother sings capitally."
"Do you think so?" she said, drily.
