wooden shoes, on pilfering maids.
The women chatted and laughed. They poured their coffee into the
saucer. They were mild and unconcerned. Anna Erikson could not
understand why she had been afraid of them, why she had always
believed that they would judge her.

When they were provided with their second cup, when they sat
delighted with the coffee trembling on the edge of their cups, and
their saucers were filled with bread, she began to speak. Her words
were a little solemn, but her voice was calm.

"Young people are imprudent. A girl who marries without thinking
seriously of what she is doing can come to great grief. Who has met
with worse than I?"

They all knew it. They had been with her and had mourned with her.

"Young people are imprudent. One holds one's tongue when one ought
to speak, for shame's sake. One dares not to speak for fear of what
people will say. He who has not spoken at the right time may have
to repent it a whole lifetime."

They all believed that this was true.

She had heard Wik yesterday as well as many times before. Now she
must tell them all something about him. An aching pain came over
her when she thought of what he had suffered for her sake. Still
she thought that he, who had been old, ought to have had more sense
than to take her, a young girl, for his wife.

"I did not dare to say it in my youth. But he went away from me out
of pity, for he thought that I wanted to have Erikson. I have his
letter about it."

She read the letter aloud for them. A tear glided demurely down her
cheek.

"He had seen falsely in his jealousy. Between Erikson and me there
was nothing then. It was four years before we were married; but I
will say it now, for Wik is too good to be misjudged. He did not
run away from wife and child from light motives, but with good
intention. I want this to be known everywhere. Captain Anderson
will perhaps read the letter aloud at the meeting. I wish Wik to be
redressed. I know, too, that I have been silent too long, but one
does not like to give up everything for a drunkard. Now it is
another matter."

The women sat as if turned to stone. Anna Erikson, her voice
trembling a little, said with a faint smile,--

"Now perhaps you will never care to come to see me again?"

"Oh, yes indeed! You were so young! It was nothing which you could
help.--It was his fault for having such ideas."

She smiled. These were the hard beaks which would have torn her to
pieces. The t