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Bojer, Johan, 1872-1959

"The Great Hunger"

I won't, I won't, I won't--I said
it ever so many times. And you said it didn't matter--for YOU WOULD.
Yes, you took me most unfairly off my guard; but now look out for
yourself."
The next moment she flung her arms round his neck. But when he tried to
kiss her, she pushed him away again. "No," she said, "you mustn't think
I did it for that!"
Soon they were walking arm-in-arm along the country road, on their way
to Aunt Marit at Bruseth. It was September, and all about the wooded
hills stood yellow, and the cornfields were golden and the rowan berries
blood-red. But there was still summer in the air.
"Ugh! how impossibly fast you walk," exclaimed Merle, stopping out of
breath.
And when they came to a gate they sat down in the grass by the wayside.
Below them was the town, with its many roofs and chimneys standing out
against the shining lake, that lay framed in broad stretches of farm and
field.
"Do you know how it came about that mother is--as she is?" asked Merle
suddenly.
"No. I didn't like to ask you about it."
She drew a stalk of grass between her lips.
"Well, you see--mother's father was a clergyman. And when--when father
forbade her to go to church, she obeyed him. But she couldn't sleep
after that. She felt--as if she had sold her soul."
"And what did your father say to that?"
"Said it was hysteria. But, hysteria or not, mother couldn't sleep. And
at last they had to take her away to a home."
"Poor soul!" said Peer, taking the girl's hand.


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