her precautions, Halvor must have divined something,
for he quickly grasped her hands and drew her to him.

"No! No!" she cried in alarm, freeing herself; then she hurried
away.

***

Elof had gone to live with Halvor. All summer he lay in the little
bedroom off the shop. Halvor was not troubled with the care of him
for a great while, for in the autumn he died.

Shortly after his death Mother Stina said to Halvor: "Now you must
promise me one thing: promise me that you will exercise patience as
regards Karin."

"Of course I'll have patience," Halvor returned, wonderingly.

"She's somebody worth winning, even if one has to wait seven long
years."

But it was not so easy for Halvor to have patience, for he soon
learned that this one and that one was paying court to Karin. This
began within a fortnight of Elof's funeral.

One Sunday afternoon Halvor sat on the steps in front of his shop,
watching the people coming and going. Presently it occurred to him
that an unusual number of fine rigs were moving in the direction of
the Ingmar Farm. In the first carriage sat an inspector from
Bergsana Foundry, in the second was the son of the proprietor of
the Karmsund Inn, and last came the Magistrate Berger Sven Persson,
who was the richest man in western Dalecarlia, and a sensible and
highly esteemed man, too. He was not young, to be sure; he had been
twice married, and was now a widower for the second time.

When Halvor saw Berger Sven Persson driving by, he could not
contain himself any longer. He jumped to his feet and started down
the road; in almost no time he was over the bridge and on the side
of the river where the Ingmar Farm lay.

"I'd like to know where all those carriages have gone to," he said
to himself. He followed the wheel ruts, half running, but all the
while becoming more and more determined. "I know this is stupid of
me," he thought, remembering Mother Stina's warning. "But I'm only
going as far as the gate, to see what they're up to down there."

In the best room at the Ingmars sat Berger Sven Persson and two
other men, drinking coffee. Ingmar Ingmarsson, who still lived at
the schoolhouse, was at home over Sunday. He sat at table with them
and acted as host, for Karin had excused herself, saying she had
some work to do in the kitchen, as the maids had gone down to the
mission house to hear the schoolmaster preach.

It was deadly dull in the parlour. All the men sat drinking their
coffee withou