One evening, toward the close of autumn, Jan was on his way home
from Falla, where he had been threshing all day. After his talk
with the seine-maker his desire for work had come back to him. He
felt now that he must do what he could to keep up so that the
little girl on her return would not be subjected to the humiliation
of finding her parents reduced to the condition of paupers.
When Jan was far enough away from the house not to be seen from the
windows he noticed a woman in the road coming toward him. Dusk had
already fallen, but he soon saw it was the mistress herself--not
the new one, but the old and rightful mistress of Falla. She had on
a big shawl that came down to the hem of her skirt. Jan had never
seen her so wrapped up, and wondered if she was ill. She had looked
poorly of late. In the spring, when her husband died, she had not a
gray hair on her head, and now, half a year afterward, she had not
a dark hair left.
The old mistress stopped and greeted Jan, after which the two stood
and talked. She said nothing that would indicate that she had come
out expressly to see him, but he felt it to be so. It flashed into
his head that she wanted to speak with him about Glory Goldie, and
he was rather miffed when she began to talk about something quite
different.
"I wonder, Jan, if you remember the old owner of Falla, my father,
who was master there before Eric came?"
"Why shouldn't I remember him, when I was all of twelve at the time
of his death?"
"He had a good son-in-law," said the old mistress.
"He had that," agreed Jan.
The old mistress was silent a moment, and sighed once or twice
before she continued: "I want to ask your advice about something,
Jan. You are not the sort that would go about tittle-tattling what
I say."
"No, I can hold my tongue."
"Yes, I've noticed that this year."
New hopes arose in Jan. It would not be surprising, thought he, if
Glory Goldie had turned to the old mistress of Falla and asked her
to tell him and Katrina of the great thing that had come to her.
For the old seine-maker had been taken down with rheumatic fever
shortly after their interrupted conversation, and for weeks he had
been too ill to see him. Now he was up and about again, but very
feeble. The worst of it was that after his illness his memory
seemed to be gone. He had waited for him to say something more
about Glory Goldie's letter, but as he had failed to do so, and
could not even take a hint, he had asked him straight out. And the
old man had declared he had not received any letter. To convince
Jan he had pulled out the table drawer and thrown back the lid of
his clothes-chest, to let him see for himself that there was no
such letter.
Of course he had forgotten what he did with it, Jan concluded. So,
no wonder the little girl had turned to the mistress of Falla. Pity
she hadn't done it in the first place! Now that the old mistress
was hesitating so long he felt certain in his own mind that he was
right. But when she again returned to the subject of her father, he
was so surprised he could hardly follow her. She said:
"When father was nearing the end he summoned Eric of Falla to his
bedside and thanked him for his loving care of a helpless old man
in his declining years. 'Don't think about that, Father,' said
Eric. 'We're glad to have you with us just as long as you care to
stay.' That's what Eric said. And he meant it, too!"
"He did that," confirmed Jan. "There were no fox-tricks about him!"
"Wait, Jan!" said the mistress, "we'll just speak of the old people
for the present. Do you remember the long silver-mounted stick
father used to carry?"
"Yes; both the stick and the high leather cap he always wore when
he went to church."
"So you remember the cap, too? Do you know what father did at the
last? He told me to fetch him his stick and cap, and then he gave
them to Eric. 'I could have given you something that was worth more
money,' he told Eric, 'but I am giving you these instead, for I
know you would rather have something I have used.'"
"That was an honour well earned." When Jan said that he noticed
that the old mistress drew her shawl closer together. He was sure
now she was hiding something under it--maybe a present from Glory
Goldie! "She'll get round to that in time," he thought. "All this
talk about her father is only a makeshift."
"I have often spoken of this to my children," the old mistress went
on, "and also to Lars Gunnarson. Last spring, when Eric lay sick, I
think both Lars and Anna expected that Lars would be called to the
bedside, as Eric had once been called. I had brought him in the
stick and cap so they'd be handy in case Eric wished to give them
to Lars; but he had no such thought."
The old mistress's voice shook as she said that, and when she spoke
again her tone sounded anxious and uncertain.
"Once, when we were alone, I asked Eric what his wishes were, and
he said if I wanted to I could give the things to Lars when he was
gone as he had not the strength to make speeches."
Whereupon the mistress of Falla threw back her big shawl, and then
Jan saw that she held under it a long, silver-mounted ebony stick
and a stiff, high-crowned leather cap.
"Some words are too heavy for utterance," she said with great
gravity. "Answer me with just a nod, Jan, if you will. Can I give
these to Lars Gunnarson?"
Jan drew back a step. This was a matter he had entirely dismissed
from his mind. It seemed such a long time since Eric of Falla died
he hardly remembered how it happened.
"You understand, Jan, that all I want to know is whether Lars can
accept the stick and cap with the same right as Eric. You must
know, as you were with him that time in the forest. It would be
well for me," she added, as Jan did not speak, "if I could give
them to Lars. I believe there would be less friction afterward
between the young folks and me."
Her voice failed her again, and Jan began to perceive why she had
aged so much the past few months; but now his mind was so taken up
with other things that he no longer cherished the old resentment
against his new employer.
"It's best to forgive and forget," he said. "It pays in the long
run."
The old mistress caught her breath. "Then it is just as I thought!"
she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "I'll not ask you
to tell what took place. It's best for me not to know. But one
thing is certain, Lars Gunnarson shall never get his hands on my
father's stick!"
She had already turned to go, then suddenly faced about. "Here,
Jan," she said, holding out the things. "You may have the stick and
cap, for I want them to be in good, honest hands. I daren't take
them home again lest I be forced to turn them over to Lars; so you
keep them as a memento of the old master, who always thought well
of you."
Then she walked away, erect and proud, and there Jan stood holding
the cap and stick. He hardly knew how it had come about. He had
never expected to be so honoured. Were these heirlooms now to be
his? Then in a moment, he found an explanation: Glory Goldie was
back of it all. The old mistress knew that he was soon to be
elevated to a station so exalted that nothing would be too good for
him. Indeed, had the stick been of silver and the cap of gold they
would have been even more suitable for the father of Glory Goldie.