“They carried on like that all the time they were eating.  Mother had sent a little brandy along with the food.  I marvelled that people could be so happy over food and drink.  ’You’ll have to tell your mother that Big Ingmar has eaten up everything,’ said the old man, ‘and that she will have to send more to-morrow.’  ‘So I see,’ said I.

“Just then I was startled by a crackling noise in the fireplace.  It sounded as if some one had cast a handful of pebbles on the stones.  Father did not notice it, but at once Strong Ingmar said:  ’What, so soon?’ Yet he went on eating.  Then there was more crackling; this time it was much louder.  Now it sounded as if a shovelful of stones had been thrown on the fire.  ‘Well, well, is it so urgent!’ Strong Ingmar exclaimed.  Then he went out.  ‘The charcoal must be afire!’ he shouted back.  ’Just you sit still, Big Ingmar.  I’ll attend to this myself.’  Father and I sat very quiet.

“In a little while Strong Ingmar returned, and the fun began anew.  ‘I haven’t had such a merry Christmas in years,’ he laughed.  He had no sooner got the words out of his mouth than the crackling started afresh.  ‘What, again?  Well, I never!’ and out he flew in a jiffy.  The charcoal was afire again.  When the old man came back for the second time, father said to him:  ’I see now that you have such good help up here that you can get along by yourself.’  ’Yes, you can safely go home and keep your Christmas, Big Ingmar, for here there are those who will help me.’  Then father and I went home, and everything was all right.  And never, either before or afterward, was any kiln tended by Strong Ingmar known to get afire.”

Gunhild thanked Ingmar for his story, but Gertrude walked on in silence, as if she had become frightened.  It was beginning to get dark; everything that had looked so rosy a while ago was now either blue or gray.  Here and there in the forest could be seen a shiny leaf that gleamed in the twilight like the red eye of a troll.

Gertrude was astonished at Ingmar having talked so much and so long.  He seemed like another person since coming in on home ground; he carried his head higher than usual, and stepped with firmer tread.  Gertrude did not quite like this change in him; it made her feel uneasy.  All the same she spunked up, and began to tease Ingmar about his going home to dance.

Then at last they came to a little gray hut.  Candles were burning inside, the windows being too small to let in much light.  They caught the sound of violin music and the clatter of dancing feet.  Still the girls paused, wonderingly.  “Is it here?” they questioned.  “Can any one dance here?  The place looks too small to hold even one couple.”

“Go along inside,” said Gabriel; “the hut isn’t as tiny as looks.”

Outside the door, which was open, stood a group of boys and girls who had danced themselves into a warm glow; the girls were fanning themselves with their headshawls, and the boys had pulled off their short black jackets in order to dance in their bright green red-sleeved waistcoats.