other," Karin replied. "He is the present Ingmar
Ingmarsson."

"He's rather little for that name," Storm remarked.

"Yes, father died too soon!"

"He did indeed," said the schoolmaster and his wife, both in the
same breath.

"He has been attending the school in Falun," Karin explained.
"That's why he hasn't been here before."

"Aren't you going to let him go back this year, too?"

Karin dropped her eyes and a sigh escaped her. "He has the name of
being a good student," she said, evading his question.

"I'm only afraid that I can't teach him anything. He must know as
much as I do."

"Well, I guess the schoolmaster knows a good deal more than a
little chap like him." Then came another pause, after which Karin
continued: "This is not only the question of his attending school,
but I would also like to ask whether you and Mother Stina would let
the boy come here to live."

The schoolmaster and his wife looked at each other in astonishment,
but neither of them was prepared to answer.

"I fear our quarters are rather close," said Storm, presently.

"I thought that perhaps you might be willing to accept milk and
butter and eggs as part payment."

"As to that--"

"You would be doing me a great service," said the rich peasant
woman.

Mother Stina felt that Karin would never have made this singular
request had there not been some good reason for it; so she promptly
settled the matter.

"Karin need say no more. We will do all that we can for the
Ingmarssons."

"Thank you," said Karin.

The two women talked over what had best be done for Ingmar's
welfare. Meantime, Storm took the boy with him to the classroom,
and gave him a seat next to Gertrude. During the whole of the first
day Ingmar never said a word.

***

Tims Halvor did not go near the schoolhouse again for a week or
more; it was as if he were afraid of again meeting Karin there. But
one morning when it rained in torrents, and there was no likelihood
of any customers coming, he decided to run over and have a chat
with Mother Stina. He was hungry for a heart-to-heart talk with
some kindly and sympathetic person. He had been seized by a
terrible fit of the blues. "I'm no good, and no one has any respect
for me," he murmured, tormenting himself, as he had been in the
habit of doing ever since Karin had thrown him over.

He closed his shop, buttoned his storm coat, and went on his way to
the school, through wind and rain and slush. Halvor was happy