be so
long now. But if it has to be, I can be patient as long as I must. We
are better than ever now. Do you know, I am so happy these days I have
taken to singing, just as I used to do when I was a girl. What do you
say to that? Suppose he were to have a voice, and sing in the choir,
and leave you to work at your drainage all by yourself!

"My love, my love, I kiss you right in your heart. The warmest love
from us both--I know you will be writing to us soon.

"KYLLIKKI (waiting to be a mother)."

"His BIRTHPLACE, _10th Sept., 11 a.m._

"FATHER!--Yes, that is what you are now. I can see your eyes light
up. And a son, of course. At six o'clock this morning. All well, both
going on finely; _he_ is simply a picture of health, big and strong
and full of life. And such a voice! If you want a man to shout out
orders to the workmen.... I haven't looked at him properly yet. He is
lying here just beside me; I can see his hand sticking out between the
clothes. A fine little hand, not just fat and soft and flabby, but
big and strong--his father's hand. The very hand to drain a marsh, you
wait and see. And his soul--ah, you should see his eyes! His father's
eyes. Now they won't let me write any more. I will tell you more next
time. I have sent him a kiss with my eyes, from you--and there is a
kiss for you in my thoughts.

"KYLLIKKI (the happy mother)."

THE HOMECOMING

The autumn sun was setting; it smiled upon the meadows, gleamed in the
window-panes, and threw a kindly glow upon the distant forest. The air
was cool.

Olof was in a strange mood to-day. He walked with light, springy step,
and could not keep still for a moment; he was uneasy, and yet glad.
He had sent a man to the station with a horse, and the little
servant-maid had been dispatched on an errand to a distant village--he
wished to be alone.

He stepped hastily into the bedroom, gave a searching glance round,
looked at the thermometer on the wall, and laughed.

"Aha--beginning to look all right now."

Then he went back to the sitting-room. The coffee-pot was simmering
its quiet, cheerful song on the fire; close by lay a goodly heap of
white pine logs.

He lifted the pot from the fire, poured out a little of the coffee in
a cup, and poured it back again. Then, thrusting his hands into his
pockets, he walked up and down, smiling and whistling to himself.

"Wonder what she will think, when I don't come to the station to meet
her there? But sh