Here he caught sight of Marit.

"You are number one of the girls,"-- she blushed crimson over face and neck, but tried to smile.
"You are number twelve; you have been lazy, you rogue, and full of mischief; you number eleven, nothing better to be expected, my boy; you, number thirteen, must study hard and come to the next examination, or it will go badly with you!" Oyvind could bear it no longer; number one, to be sure, had not been mentioned, but he had been standing all the time so that the school-master could see him.
"School-master!" He did not hear.

"School-master!" Oyvind had to repeat this three times before it was heard.

At last the school-master looked at him.
"Number nine or ten, I do not remember which," said he, and turned to another.
"Who is number one, then ?" inquired Hans, who was Oyvind's best friend.
"It is not you, curly-head!" said the school-master, rapping him over the hand with a roll of paper.
"Who is it, then ?" asked others.

"Who is it?
Yes; who is it ?" "He will find that out who has the number," replied the school-master, sternly.