Signe Dahl sat in the little coupe of the railroad train which was
carrying her to Christiania. She was the sole occupant of the
compartment, her big valise resting on the opposite seat. Out through
the lowered window she looked at the flying landscape, a mingling of
pine hills, waters, and green meadows. An hour ago she had boarded the
train at Holmen, the nearest station to Nordal. Early that morning she
had tearfully kissed them all good-by and had begun her journey to that
haven of rest from old country oppressions--America. She and her mother
had planned it, and the father had at last given his consent. It was all
the outcome of Hr. Bogstad's persistent devotions to the family on the
island in the lake.
Tiring of the scenery, Signe took from a bundle a letter. It had been
handed her by the postmaster at Nordal that morning as she drove past,
and was from Hr. Bogstad, who was in the North with a party of tourists.
She opened it and read:
"I wrote you a letter about a week ago, describing our trip up to that
time.
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