THE BOYS.
When Decima had been fairly settled as the tenth little baby that had
come to the golden house, Erik, the oldest of the flock, confided to
Nono that he meant to start as soon as possible for America. Nono was
the recipient of the secrets of all the children. They always found in
the little Italian a sympathetic listener, and they could be sure of
his profound silence as to their private communications. Nono's
evident sense of the many for whom Karin was called on to care had
suggested to Erik that although it would be too great a penance for him
to be tending a baby, as Nono did, he could go out and earn his own
living; which would probably be quite as useful to the family. So to
America he had resolved to go, always understanding that he had gained
his parents' permission. That permission was not hard to win, for
Karin had friends who were emigrating, and who would take care of her
boy on the way, and were willing to promise to look after him on his
arrival in the "far West," whither they were bound.
Erik went off cheerily, with his ticket paid to the end of his journey,
and a little box of strong clothing, his Bible, and his parents'
blessing as the capital he took to the new country. Erik had another
treasure, not outside of him, but in his inmost heart--a resolve to
lead in a foreign land just such a life as he should not be ashamed to
have his parents know about, the Word of God being his guide and
comfort. Erik was no experienced Christian, but he had started in the
right spirit.
Erik had never been renowned for his scholarship, but rather for his
industry and skill when real practical work was in question. He wrote
at first short letters in Swedish. They soon came less and less
frequently, and finally in a kind of mixed language, a mingling of the
new and the old, a fair transcript of his present style of
conversation. These letters caused much puzzling in the golden house,
and occasionally had to be taken to the old pastor for explanation and
translation. One came at last, beginning "Dear moder and broder,
hillo!" Then followed a page in a curious lingo, wherein it was stated
that Erik now had a nice room to himself in the "place" he had
obtained. He did not say that the room was in the stable where he was
hostler, or that it was just six feet by eight when lawfully measured.
He also mentioned that he had food fit for a count; which was true in a
way, as he was daily regaled with fruit and vegetables that would have
been esteemed in Sweden luxuries sufficient for the table of any
nobleman. He dressed like a count too, he said; on which point Erik's
testimony was not to be accepted, as he had had little to do with
counts in his native land. The big boy did not mean to exaggerate. He
was simply and honestly delighted at his success in seeking his
fortune. Not that he was laying up money. Far from it. He was
sending home to "old Sweden" all he could possibly spare, and was
anxious to have Karin feel that it was a light thing for a son who was
so comfortable to be remitting a bit of money now and then to a mother
who had given him such love and care all the days of his life. Erik
did not write much about or to his father, but he thought of him all
the more, and inwardly thanked that father for his stern and steady
hand with his boys, and for teaching them not only to do honest work,
but to know what a real Christian man should be.
Oke, the next boy, had been the bearer to the parsonage of Erik's
unreadable letters, and had there been instructed in their proper
rendering into everyday Swedish. So a kind of special acquaintance had
grown up between the slender, pale boy and the kind old pastor.
The pastor was a bachelor, and lonely in his declining years. He had
found it pleasant to see Oke coming with an American letter in his
hand, his young face beaming with delight. The pastor had, besides,
learned to know more and more of Karin's home and the spirit that was
reigning there. Perhaps, when he saw Uncle Pelle sitting in church,
Sunday after Sunday, clean and happy among Karin's boys, he had thought
he too might have a guest-room that might receive one member from the
full golden house. So Oke came to live at the pastor's, who said he
did not see as well as he once did, and he must have a boy trained to
read aloud to him, and to write a bit, too, for him now and then. It
was stipulated that Oke's duties were not to be all of the literary
sort. The pastor was convinced that Oke had a good head for study, and
really ought to have a chance to improve himself. The boy was not,
however, to be kept constantly bending over books, but was to have as
much work in the open air as possible. The pastor himself had a weak
constitution, and had suffered all his life from delicate health, and
had found it no pleasant experience. Oke should be a robust Christian,
for a Christian he was of course to be.
The elder boys being disposed of, the twins had come into power. The
oldest among the children had always been allowed to be a kind of
perpetual monitor for the rest, with restricted powers of discipline.
Oke's rule had been mild but firm. He had taken no notice of small
matters; but if anything really wrong had gone on, Jan was sure to hear
of it, and a thorough settlement with the offender inevitably followed.
The twins were rather against the outside world in general, strong in
their two pair of hands, and two loud voices to shout on their side.
Nono really feared this duumvirate, for the twins had more than once
given him to understand that he would "catch it" when they got to be
the oldest at home. They had no particular offences to complain of or
anticipate on Nono's side, but they enjoyed giving out awful threats of
what they would do if ever they had the opportunity. Oke had kept them
in order without difficulty, for he had a vehement power of reproof,
when fairly roused, that could make even the twins hide their faces in
shame, as he pictured to them their unworthiness.
Nono had gotten on very well with the "lions and the bears" of the
past, but how was he to deal with this two-headed "Philistine" under
whose dominion he had now come? He was resolved on one thing--Karin
should hear no complaints from him. She should not be worried by the
little boy she had taken in among her own to be so wonderfully happy.