Tora was a perfect whirlwind, carrying all before her, and the storm of excitement had brought fire to her eyes, her movements--she seemed to sparkle. She took possession of them.
Not long afterwards they all four stood before the press; the introduction, the embarrassment from the change of circumstances, apologies, counter-apologies, occupied the first few minutes; Tora took hold of Milla and pushed her gently forward to the front of the press.
"Open! open!--we can talk afterwards--open!" Milla herself felt that here action was better than words, and opened the door.
The cry of delight which was given by the newcomers fully rewarded her.
There was an amount of industry, order, loyalty, and sense of beauty in this little collection which she was aware of herself, and which made it dear to her heart. It was her treasure, never seen by many people, and for the last two or three years only by herself; there was therefore a special charm of secrecy in it; it would be enjoyed when some day it was opened before the astonished eyes of others. And now, how it was enjoyed!
Each one found a special pleasure in it. Tinka looked upon the dolls as so many little children, she talked baby talk to them: "Doodnes dacious" for "Goodness gracious," and "tweet" for "sweet." She began to undress one for the pleasure of dressing it again.
Tora delighted in the stuffs, felt each one, held them up against the light, laid them one against the other. There was a special piece of brocade which she now saw for the first time (Milla looked it out for her), which absolutely enraptured her; it suggested plan upon plan, she talked without a pause. Nora regarded the press as a collection of works of art. Milla became a new person in her eyes. It was evident what she thought of her now, one saw it in Milla's slightly heightened colour.
They treated each other the whole evening with a distinction which the others considered as only natural.
They were soon all sitting round the table with the dolls shared among them; the materials and everything which could be of use for this great object, a Court Ball, lay scattered before them, and eight eyes and forty fingers rummaged among them. They could not agree; Tora wished to have a costume ball, her endless chatter filled the air with fancies and varying colours, a perfect whirl of figures of damsels and _rococo_ dames with ribbons, feathers, and hats. Milla preferred the present day, the fashion plates, especially some quite new ones.
Nora was sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, according as some special thing took her fancy. Tinka opposed the idea; they could each one dress her doll according to her own fancy. Nora and Tora rebelled against this; there ought to be some style in it. Milla dealt with the proposal with more deliberation, but was against it. Nora quickly grew impatient at this, and then, by a sleight of hand which only girls understand, this discussion turned into a dispute about--Tomas Rendalen and Karl Vangen! Not between Tinka and the others, but Tora against Nora and Tinka. Tora being herself nervous, could not endure Rendalen's nervousness. It was either this, or that she was inclined to be in opposition; otherwise it cannot be explained how it was that from the first day she had been unable to get on with Rendalen. A speaking resemblance between a red-spotted stuff and Rendalen's hands had started the dispute. Nora had hastily answered that his hands were clever, really speaking hands; Vangen's, on the contrary, were "big and stupid, as broad at one end as the other."
When there are only two masculine teachers in a girls' school, the pupils very rarely praise both--one must be censured when the other is applauded; and at school it was generally honest Karl Vangen who was used as a foil whenever any one felt inclined to become enthusiastic over the intellectual Rendalen.
But on this point Tora was in opposition from the moment when Karl Vangen had grasped her hand in warm welcome, and had beamed down at her with his kind eyes, and besides had made their meeting the text of his address that day--since then she had been fond of him. And the more awkward and simple he was, the more she liked him--she fought for him until the others were forced to respect her.
This time it began very mildly; they merely taunted her with Karl Vangen's "thick head," his wide mouth, his long fingers, long legs and big feet; and she replied with allusions to Rendalen's red hair, screwed-up eyes, his feminine preciseness, his scented handkerchief; but it soon became more serious. Tora's quick wit cited instances of Rendalen's uncontrolled impetuosity, and what mistakes he made in consequence. Instances of his uneven temper--how sometimes he rushed up and down the class without speaking, without hearing, without seeing; at other times he was nothing but life, absolutely given up to fun--far too much so. The others considered that this was unjust, because if this were mentioned by itself, no one would have the least idea of Rendalen, who was, for all that, the best and cleverest teacher in the world. Tinka had a capricious talent for mimicry and not the slightest leaning towards piety, so that Karl Vangen very easily appeared to her in a ludicrous light; she now began to preach, or rather to bleat, like him, with eyes gazing fixedly heavenwards. Nora laughed violently, Tora cried, Milla could not prevent herself from laughing, but all the same, she now took Karl Vangen's part; she quietly remarked that she thought him "delightful"; she did not mention Rendalen. As Milla was the hostess and Nora and Tinka at her house for the first time, they said no more; but Tora would not give in; she now seriously began to sing Karl Vangen's praises. In order not to answer and admit that there might be some truth in it, Nora walked away humming and looked out of the window. "Good gracious! why, there goes Anna Rogne," she said.
"Has she been here?" asked Milla, turning pale; she got up and came towards the window. Yes, certainly she saw Anna hurrying away, she must be much disturbed; she herself, with as much speed as was becoming, hastened out of the door and down the stairs. Some time elapsed before she returned. She was silent and really upset; Anna had been right upstairs and therefore outside their door. There was general astonishment. Milla told them what had happened that morning, and how innocent she really was in the matter. Tora at once took it upon herself, and was terribly unhappy.
"No, the blame is mine alone," said Milla.
What should she do? She had ordered the carriage.
No one answered, but they looked involuntarily at Tinka.
"Yes," said Tinka, "we will all go together to fetch Anna and explain to her how it happened." Nora and Tora agreed at once that that was the only right thing to do. Milla, too, admitted that this would be best, but she had never said anything to Anna about the dolls; Anna did not care for such things, and now it could not very well be explained to her without offence. Nora and Tora were sensible of this; it would not do.
Tinka held to her opinion; she would gladly undertake it by herself.
No; if any one were to do so it should be Milla.
This put the idea into Milla's head to write. Simply say to Anna that the others were here, would she not come too? She sent the carriage.
Yes, the others thought that would do.
"Go yourself!" said Tinka.
"No, I am not so discourteous as that to my guests," laughed Milla. She sat down to write.
The others were quiet for a time; at last Nora broke in with, "Tinka is certainly right; go yourself, we can easily go out just for that time."
"No," answered Milla, looking up from her letter; "Anna need not know that we saw her. Then it would be the most natural thing in the world for me to send a message to her when you are here." The others could not contradict this. She finished off the note and hurried down with it; as she came up again they heard the carriage drive out of the gate, at the side of the house. Milla smiled; "I said I would explain another time why you had come. I told Hans to be quick and to drive a little way round so as not to pass Anna; perhaps the carriage will be there before she is." It was evident that she was pleased at having proved equal to a difficult occasion.
They resumed their discussion on the dolls' festival; but before the carriage returned with Anna, the dolls and their things must be back in the press.
Suddenly Nora broke out: "If we are not to mention the dolls to Anna, why in the world could we not have all gone to her together?"
They looked puzzled at each other for a moment. It was true! They burst out laughing. What had given them the mad idea that for them all to go together would be to let out the secret of the dolls. They tried to recall the course of their conversation, but could not determine it; at all events, it showed that they had uneasy consciences. Tinka proposed in good time to put away the dolls, their wardrobe and stuffs, under Milla's superintendence; but Milla undertook to put the whole thing tidy later on, they could sit quiet while she did so. They all objected to this; it would be awfully amusing to put them away. And so it was settled.
The carriage returned without Anna--she had a headache. Tora looked at Milla, and Milla at Tora; this was a final good-bye. It put them all out of tune for a little while, but when they remembered that at all events they could take the dolls out again, the three guests soon consoled themselves.
As soon as they had got to work, the conversation naturally turned upon Anna; none of the three liked her; they thought her artificial, _pretentieuse_, as Tora expressed it in rather affected French; Anna was always trying to take up some special line; everything she said, or did, must be so dreadfully thorough. But they all agreed that she wrote well; it was true, for the two things went naturally together.
They then began to make fun of her extreme piety. Milla had said nothing about the first; as regarded the second, she contented herself by remarking that she had perhaps a little too much of it.
Nora was the first to forsake the table. She could not go on any longer; she must have a little music, she said. The grand piano was tried. Milla was afraid that it was not quite in tune; nor was it, but what a tone! Nora sang, while the others dressed dolls; then she worried Tinka to join her, but at first Tinka would not leave her blue doll; at last Milla asked her to do so. They had sung one or two songs when there was a knock at the door. Milla's maid announced that the Consul had arrived; there was great surprise, he was not expected.
Milla hurried down. The others all agreed at once that they must go, it would be dull work having tea with the Consul. Tora especially shrank from it; her cuffs were not quite clean; would it do to ask Milla to lend her a pair? During this discussion the door was opened, in came Milla, quicker than any one believed it possible for her to move.
"Father's coming," she whispered, and hurried to the table with the others after her. From there to the press, from the press to the table, from the table to the press; heads and shoulders were knocked together, toes trodden on, amid smothered cries, laughter, and scolding; everything was off the table and locked up as the Consul knocked at the door. Nora had pushed Tinka on to the sofa, she herself sat gravely on a chair, Milla and Tora stood by the press. The Consul came in, elegant and smiling as usual. He saw the four girls red with suppressed laughter, or whatever it might be, embarrassed, constrained. "What the deuce is it?" he thought, and came forward to Nora, the Sheriff's daughter, bowed politely, bade her welcome, and asked after her parents; then to the others as Milla introduced them, and then back again to Nora; he asked merrily if he might have the pleasure of taking her downstairs. He had just come from the steamer, and was as hungry as one only can be after a sea voyage.
She took his arm, but he wished the others to go first, which they hesitated to do; it seemed as though one were waiting for the other.
Tinka could not understand why Tora did not move, and when the Consul turned towards her again she came forward, although it was rather embarrassing. Why did not Milla help her? She stood there too, as though she had taken root. The Consul gave his daughter a little push: "_Avancez, mesdemoiselles_." She was obliged to come a little forward, and the lower part of a doll become visible! It lay there, "naked and face downwards," as the song says. Tora tried to cover it up, but the Consul had caught sight of it, and with a "Pardon me, Froken," he stooped and picked it up. Tora ran, Tinka ran, Milla ran, Nora let go his arm and ran, and the Consul after them with the doll. "What is this--what in the world is this?"
They all rushed into the dining-room and stood there in a group, convulsed with laughter, as the Consul followed them with the doll in the air like a flag. It was the blue doll which Tinka had undressed for the third time, and was going to put to bed just as the Consul came and everything was hurry-scurry. It must have slipped down and bashfully hidden itself under a skirt at the time the press was closed. Milla and Tora had discovered it at the same moment, and both placed themselves over it.
The Consul sat down with the doll in his arms; then he laid it down in his table napkin, and after looking at it once or twice he put it on the table with a teacup under its head. Milla snatched it from him.
"Do you really play with dolls?"
No, indeed; they had come to consult together about Christmas presents.
Milla gave this answer.
"Why should you hide such a harmless thing?" asked the Consul.
"Because the doll was undressed, of course," answered his daughter.
Nora soon joined in; she was used to this sort of thing. She also had a father who loved to tease girls.
The other two took but little part, but as against that the Consul kept his eyes on them almost continually. Tinka could quite understand that Tora might attract his attention, but why should she? She grew uneasy by degrees. Her dress might have come unsewn somewhere near the arm, it happened so to her sometimes; she looked as well as she could, but failed to discover anything; she felt as though she had no dress on at all.
The Consul was very merry; suddenly he turned all his attention to Tora, they had only been a short time at table and she had finished already! The fact was that the unlucky cuffs worried Tora to such an extent that they ran between her and her wits. The Consul looked at her suddenly; it was not the birth-mark that he was looking at, for she had been careful to have that side next to Milla; it was certainly not her face, his looks were directed lower than that. She put down her knife and fork and hid her hands under the table.
"You are not eating, my dear Froken Holm; are you not well, missie?
What's amiss with you? Or is there anything particular you want? Just say what it is. Milla, give Froken Holm another cup of tea. No tea either? A glass of wine? Come now, just a glass of wine. Your good health, Froken! But you won't drink any? Do you prefer Madeira? Good gracious, are you blushing about it? Headache? Dear, dear! Perhaps you would like----? Shall Milla help you? Not that either? Just say what you want, my dear. Have you often a headache, Froken Holm? What, you have not got one? I once knew a girl who would have a headache merely if something were amiss with her cuffs. But, my dear Milla, I do not want to tease Froken Holm. Is that what it is, Froken Holm?"
Tora was overcome by a feeling of helplessness which would seize her for even a smaller cause than this, and which always made her cry. She had to leave the table and hasten upstairs.
Milla rose with a dignity which her friends admired, and followed her.
When the others joined her, Tora was gone. Milla looked pale, but was completely silent as to what had passed. Nora and Tinka began to put on their things, Milla making no objection. She kissed them and begged them to come again, repeating her invitation down in the hall. It was only when she was upstairs alone, and had locked the door, that she burst into tears. Such a thing would never have happened if her mother had been at table, she could not fill her place; her father had vexed her terribly. Her mother had left her so much too soon. "Oh, mother, mother, mother!" There was a knock at the door. She asked who it was.
Her father; of course she had to open, but she went back to the sofa and flung herself crying into the furthermost corner. He sat down quietly, and after a few moments he said very gently, almost in a whisper, "Listen, Milla; I am sorry for what has happened; I wish I knew better how it had come about. But it is annoying, of course, chiefly for your sake. I never thought she could take it so to heart. I was so pleased that your friends should come to see you. Especially these girls. All the same, and perhaps it was that feeling which influenced me, have you been careful enough in the choice of one of them, Milla?"
"What do you mean?"