One Sunday afternoon Jan and Glory Goldie set out together in the
direction of the big forest; the little girl was then in her fifth
year.
Silent and serious, father and little daughter walked hand in hand,
as if bent upon a very solemn mission. They went past the shaded
birch grove, their favourite haunt, past the wild strawberry hill
and the winding brook, without stopping; then, disappearing in an
easterly direction, they went into the densest part of the forest;
nor did they stop there. Wherever could they be going? By and by
they came out on a wooded hill above Loby. From there they went
down to the scale-pan, where country-road and town-road cross. They
did not go to Nästa or to Nysta, and never even glanced toward Där
Fram and På Valln, but went farther and farther into the village.
No one could have told just where they were bound for. Surely they
could not be thinking of calling upon the Hindricksons, here in
Loby?
To be sure Björn Hindrickson's wife was a half-sister of Jan's
mother, so that Jan was actually related to the richest people in
the parish, and he had a right to call Hindrickson and his wife
uncle and aunt. But heretofore he had never claimed kinship with
these people. Even to Katrina he had barely mentioned the fact that
he had such high connections. Jan would always step out of the way
when he saw Björn Hindrickson coming, and not even at church did he
go up and shake hands with him.
But now that Jan had such a remarkable little daughter he was
something more than just a poor labourer. He had a jewel to show
and a flower with which to adorn himself. Therefore he was as rich
as the richest, as great as the greatest, and now he was going
straight to the big house of Björn Hindrickson to pay his respects
to his fine relatives, for the first time in his life.
The visit at the big house was not a long one. In less than an hour
after their arrival, Jan and the little girl were crossing the
house-yard toward the gate. But at the gate Jan stopped and glanced
back, as if half-minded to go in again.
He certainly had no reason to regret his call. Both he and the
child had been well received. Björn Hindrickson's wife had taken
the little girl over to the blue cupboard, and given her a cookie
and a lump of sugar, and Björn Hindrickson himself had asked her
name and her age; whereupon he had opened his big leather purse and
presented her with a bright new sixpence.
Jan had been served with coffee, and his aunt had asked after
Katrina and had wondered whether they kept a cow or a pig, and if
their hut was cold in winter and if the wages Jan received from
Eric of Falla were sufficient for their needs.
No, there was nothing about the visit itself that troubled Jan.
When he had chatted a while with the Hindricksons they had excused
themselves--which was quite proper--saying they were invited to a
tea that afternoon and would be leaving in half an hour. Jan had
risen at once and said good-bye, knowing they must allow themselves
time to dress. Then his aunt had gone into the pantry and had
brought out butter and bacon, had filled a little bag with barley,
and another with flour, and had tied them all into a single parcel,
which she had put into Jan's hand at parting. It was just a little
something for Katrina, she had said. She should have some
recompense for staying at home to look after the house.
It was this parcel Jan stood there pondering over. He knew that in
the bundle were all sorts of good things to eat, the very things
they longed for at every meal at Ruffluck, still he felt it would
be unfair to the little girl to keep it.
He had not come to the Hindricksons as a beggar, but simply to see
his kinsfolk. He did not wish them to entertain any false notions
as to that. This thought had come to him instantly the parcel was
handed to him, but his regard for the Hindricksons was so great
that he would not have dared refuse it.
Now, turning back from the gate, he walked over to the barn and put
the parcel down near the door, where the housefolk constantly
passed and would be sure to see it.
He was sorry to have to leave it. But his little girl was no
beggar! Nobody must think that she and her father went about asking
alms.