The first day of October Jan lay on the bed the whole afternoon,
fully dressed, his face turned to the wall, and nobody could get a
word out of him.
In the forenoon he and Katrina had been down to the pier to meet
the little girl. Not that Glory Goldie had written them to say she
was coming, for indeed she had not! It was only that Jan had
figured out that it could not be otherwise. This was the first of
October, the day the money must be paid to Lars Gunnarson, so of
course Glory Goldie would come. He had not expected her home
earlier. He knew she would have to remain in Stockholm as long as
she could in order to lay by all that money; but that she should be
away any longer he never supposed. Even if she had not succeeded in
scraping together the money, that was no reason why she should be
away after the first of October.
That morning while Jan had stood on the pier waiting, he had said
to himself: "When the little girl sees us from the boat she'll put
on a sad face, and the moment she lands she'll tell us she has not
been able to raise the money. When she says that Katrina and I will
pretend to take her at her word and I'll say that can't understand
how she dared come home when she knew that all Katrina and I cared
about was the money." He was sure that before they were away from
the pier she would go down in her pocket, bring up a well-filled
purse, and turn it over to them. Then, while Katrina counted the
bank notes, he would only stand and look at Glory Goldie. The
little girl would then see that all in the world he cared about was
to have her back, and she would tell him he was just as big a
simpleton now as when she went away.
Thus had Jan pictured to himself Glory Goldie's homecoming. But his
dream did not come true.
That day he and Katrina did not have a long wait at the pier. The
boat arrived on time, but it was so overladen with passengers and
freight bound for the Broby Fair that at first glance they were
unable to tell whether or not the little girl was on board. Jan had
expected that she would be the first to come tripping down the
gangplank; but only a couple of men came ashore. Then Jan attempted
to look for her on the boat; but he could get nowhere for the
crush. All the same he felt so positive she was there that when the
deck hands began to draw in the gangplank he shouted to the captain
not to let the boat leave as there was another person to come
ashore here. The captain questioned the purser, who assured him
there were no more passengers for Svartsjö.
Then the boat pulled out and Katrina and Jan had to go home by
themselves, and the moment they were inside the hut Jan cast
himself down on the bed--so weary and disheartened that he did not
know how he would ever be able to get up again.
The Ashdales folk who had seen the father and mother return from
the pier without Glory Goldie were greatly concerned. One after the
other, the neighbours dropped in at Ruffluck to find out how matters
stood with them.
Was it true that Glory Goldie had not come on the boat? They
inquired. And was it true that they had received no letter or
message from her during the whole month of September?
Jan answered not a word to all their queries. It mattered not who
came in--he lay still. Katrina had to enlighten the neighbours as
best she could. They thought Jan lay on the bed because he was in
despair of losing the hut. They could think what they liked for all
of him.
Katrina wept and wailed, and once inside the friends felt they must
remain, if only out of pity for her, and to give what little
comfort they could.
It was not likely that Lars Gunnarson would take the house from
them, they said. The old mistress of Falla would never let that
happen. She had always shown herself to be a just and upright
person. Besides, the day was not over yet, and Glory Goldie might
still be heard from. To be sure it would be nothing short of
marvellous if she had succeeded in earning 200 rix-dollars in less
than three months' time: but then, that girl always had such good
luck.
They discussed the chances for and against. Katrina informed them
that Glory Goldie had earned nothing whatever the first weeks, that
she had taken lodgings with a family from Svartsjö, now living in
Stockholm, where she had been obliged to pay for her keep. And then
one day she had had the good fortune to meet in the street the
merchant who had given her the red dress, and he had found a place
for her.
Would it not be reasonable to suppose that the merchant had also
raised the money for her? That was not altogether impossible.
"No, it was not impossible," said Katrina, "but since the girl has
neither come herself nor written it's plain she has failed."
Every one in the hut grew more anxious and apprehensive for every
moment that passed. They all felt that some dire misfortune would
soon fall upon those who lived there. When the tension was becoming
unbearable the door opened once more and a man who was seldom seen
in the Ashdales came in.
The instant this man entered it became as still in the hut as on a
winter night in the forest, and every one's eyes save Jan's alone
turned toward him. Jan did not stir, although Katrina whispered to
him that Senator Carl Carlson of Storvik had just come in.
The senator held in his hand a roll of papers and every one took
for granted that he had been sent here by the new owner of Falla,
to notify the Ruffluck folk of what must befall them, now that they
could not meet Lars Gunnarson's claim.
Carl Carlson wore his usual magisterial mien and no one could guess
how heavily the blow he had come to deal would fall. He went up and
shook hands, first with Katrina, then with the others, and each one
in turn rose as he came to them; the only one who did not rise was
Jan.
"I am not very well acquainted in this district," said the senator,
"but I gather that this must be the place in the Ashdales that is
called Ruffluck Croft."
It was of course. Every one nodded in the affirmative, but no one
was able to utter an audible word. They wondered that Katrina had
the presence of mind to nudge Börje, and make him get up and give
his chair to the senator.
After drawing the chair up to the table the senator laid the roll
of papers down, then he took out his snuff box and placed it beside
the papers, whereupon he removed his spectacles from their case and
wiped them with his big blue-and-white checkered handkerchief.
After these preliminaries he glanced round the room, looking from
one person to the other. Those who sat there were persons of such
little importance he did not even know them by name.
"I wish to speak with Jan Anderson of Ruffluck," he said.
"That's him over there," volunteered the seine-maker, pointing at
the bed.
"Is he sick?" inquired the senator.
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" replied half a dozen at the same time.
"And he isn't drunk, either," added Börje.
"Nor is he asleep," said the seine-maker.
"He has walked so far to-day he's all tired out," said Katrina,
thinking it best to explain the matter in that way. At the same
time she bent down over her husband and tried to persuade him to
rise.
But Jan lay still.
"Does he understand what I'm saying?" asked the senator.
"Yes indeed," they all assured him.
"Perhaps he's not expecting any glad tidings, seeing it's Senator
Carl Carlson who is paying him a call." This from the seine-maker.
The senator turned his head and stared at the seine-maker. "Ol'
Bengtsa of Lusterby has not always been so afraid of meeting Carl
Carlson of Storvik," he observed in a mild voice. Turning toward
the table again, he took up a letter.
Every one was dumbfounded. The senator had actually spoken in a
friendly tone. He could almost be said to have smiled.
"The fact is," he began, "a couple of days ago I received a
communication from a person who calls herself Glory Goldie
Sunnycastle, daughter of Jan of Ruffluck, in which she says she
left home some months ago to try to earn two-hundred rix-dollars,
which sum her parents have to pay to Lars Gunnarson of Falla on the
first day of October in order to obtain full rights of ownership to
the land on which their hut stands."
Here the senator paused a moment so that his hearers would be able
to follow him.
"And now she sends the money to me," he continued, "with the
request that I come down to the Ashdales and see that this matter
is properly settled with the new owner of Falla; so that he won't
be able to play any new trick later on."
"That girl has got some sense in her head," the senator remarked as
he folded the letter. "She turns to me from the start. If all did
as she has done there would be less cheating and injustice in this
parish."
Before the close of that remark Jan was sitting on the edge of the
bed. "But the girl? Where is she?" he asked.
"And now I'd like to know," the senator proceeded, taking no notice
of Jan's question, "whether the parents are in accord with the
daughter and authorize me to close--"
"But the girl, the girl?" Jan struck in. "Where is she?"
"Where she is?" said the senator, looking in the letter to see.
"She says it was impossible for her to earn all this money in just
two or three months, but she has found a place with a kind lady,
who advanced her the money, and now she will have to stay with the
lady until she has made it good."
"Then she's not coming home?" Jan asked.
"No, not for the present, as I understand it," replied the senator.
Again Jan lay down on the bed and turned his face to the wall.
What did he care for the hut and all that? What was the good of his
going on living, when his little girl was not coming back?