stood his complicated
difficulties, he had still continued a warm Swede at heart. Now he
considered himself stronger; and did it mean life or death for him, the
north should be his home, and his children should learn to love the
land of their forefathers. His native language he had never allowed
them to lose, even when far away from the bright lakes and clustering
pines of the country so dear to him. A war against all that could
injure his fatherland the colonel had all the time been waging with his
skilful pen. By sharp newspaper articles and spirited papers in
magazines he had cast himself into whatever conflict might be going on
in Sweden, and had so had his own share of influence at home. He had
read the Stockholm journals as faithfully as if he had been living in
sight of the royal palace.

As to her father's being charmed with her plan for her flower-bed, Alma
was confident. She would not listen to Pelle's suggestion that the
flowers would hardly blossom richly at the same time, and those blue
weeds would in the end quite overrun the garden. She had no
misgivings, but walked about with a peculiar air of determination in
her slight, very slight figure.

Alma's whole person gave the impression of extreme fragility, sustained
by strength of will. It was the same with her delicate face, haloed
round by her sunny hair, ready to float in every breeze. The small
mouth was thin and decided, and the large, full blue eyes could be soft
or stern as the passing mood prompted. They were very gentle as she
looked at Nono when the noonday rest came, and told him he might come
into the house with her, as perhaps she could help him a little about
his writing in her own room.

Nono would have preferred at that moment to consume the hearty lunch
Karin had provided for him, but he followed submissively. Pelle looked
after the pair as he went to his favourite seat. Somehow the decided
figure of the young girl always touched him. There was something about
her that made him uneasy for her, body and soul.

Nono looked despairingly at his shoes, fresh from the flower-bed, as he
came to the wide doorway through which Alma had beckoned to him to
follow her. It was in vain he tried to put his feet into proper
condition by gently rubbing them on the mat that he thought fit for a
queen to step on. The colour dashed to his brown cheeks as he saw the
marks he had left on it. He could but tiptoe after Alma as she entered
the,