Work went on uninterruptedly almost the whole afternoon, without a word being spoken over the whole smithy.  By that time most of the work had been got through, and Haegberg himself went out to do business in the town.

Those who were left at work shone with perspiration, and either because work had been the best cure for the excesses of the preceding Midsummer Day and Midsummer Eve, or it was the general relief at the departure of the master, one man began suddenly to sing, a couple more to yawn and stretch themselves lazily in the enjoyment of their pleasant recollections; and then the talk began about the way they had each spent their holiday.

Only Nikolai went on undisturbed; he cared more about a screw-hole in the hinge on his probation work than all their Midsummer Eve outings, and if he only worked away now, it would be finished by the end of the month.

His small hammer sounded above their talk,—­the tar-barrels, wood-stacks and old house-walls that they had burnt, and their drinking and merriment until they had not a penny left,—­haw-haw!

The hammer rang above it all.

Jan Peter had gone in a boat over to the islands, and seen so many bonfires,[3] both there and on the hills round, that it was impossible to count them.

[Footnote 3:  It is the custom in Norway on Midsummer Eve to burn large bonfires, which can be seen for many miles round.]

Yes, when a fellow’s drunk!

The hammer went on again.

One man stretched himself and yawned with the whole Midsummer holiday in his jaws.  “Up on Grefsen ridge, cold punch had flowed down the hill as good as free.  Veyergang’s son had given the girls at the factory an old boat from Maridal Lake and half a barrel of pitch; heard the cuckoo and had larks all night—­came down again when it was nearly eight o’clock.”

The hammer rang no longer.

“Veyergang’s son—­the girls at Veyergang’s factory!” Nikolai stood, anxious and uncertain, listening, and now and again glancing quickly and sharply over at the man who was speaking.

Then he washed off the soot, and disappeared.

* * * * *

Silla had been down to the Valsets’ cottage to fetch the customary evening pint of milk, when at the gate she met Nikolai.  He said he had seen her go in, but she knew quite well that he had been watching for her.

“You can’t think what fun I had on Midsummer Eve, Nikolai!” she said, holding out the can by the handle towards him.  “If you only knew!  No, never in all my life!”

“Up on Grefsen ridge?”

“How did you know; tell me, how did you know?”

“Oh, I—­one of the smiths was up there.  But I can’t understand how you could get away from her at home.”